Seven years ago today, A and I moved into this house. So clearly I remember that day. We signed the closing papers and went straight to Home Depot to pick up our blinds and paint. We started moving in immediately. Our first house! What an exciting day!

Maybe buying a house (at that time in 2005) wasn’t all that unusual. Before that we had 3 addresses in New Jersey, and I had 3 different ones in Gainesville. Plus, while at the Air Force Academy, A changed dorm rooms every semester. We moved a combined total of 15 times over the course of 7 years. We relished the idea of staying in one place for a while.

What WAS unusual was that both of us had, prior to college, lived in the same respective homes our entire lives. These days it is practically unheard of for one person to live not only in the same city but the same house from birth to age 18 but both of us did. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why home is so important to us.

Almost every day at one time or another, perhaps in the morning before school or after Allison’s afternoon nap, I go to find Andrew visiting her in her crib. Sometimes I find that he has slipped one of her toys into her crib for her (something I put a stop to for safety reasons) or other times I just hear giggles coming from her room and see the two of them chatting away with Andrew doing everything in his power to make her laugh. It’s these moments that make me sad about leaving this house. This house that is the only one they have ever known in their short years/months of life. This house, where we brought them home from the hospital. This house where so many memories have already been made.

My sadness only goes so far. We’re experiencing definite growing pains here and we can’t wait to move into our forever home. That’s where we’ll make more memories and watch our children grow but there is much to be said for that first house you make together as a family, that first place you achieve all on your own. The first place  your children will always call home.

My baby girl.

My long awaited baby girl.

How can she really be 6 1/2 months old already?How can she really be moving, scooting, rolling and yes even a bit of crawling (backwards) trying to explore every new thing she can get her hands on? Wasn’t I just pregnant?

I think back to all those times when I thought she might never come and that Andrew would grow up without a sibling. At the Air Force Academy, where A went to school they have a “club”. It’s not really an official anything but it is for cadets and girlfriends who are together the full 4 years. It’s called the 2% club because as many couples who start off hoping to stay together, only about 2% of them make it.

Well I guess we’re good at beating odds.

Allison is a 5% baby. Five percent because that’s what doctors told us were our chances of having a baby without some sort of medical intervention.

So when I say I wasn’t sure we’d ever have her, I’m not exaggerating.

Yet here she is. With her ears newly pierced, with hair growing rapidly towards pigtail readiness, and as much pink as we can handle. And oh our hearts! She’s had them not from the day she was born, no from the moment that second line appeared on my pregnancy test. Our miracle.

I wouldn’t call her a crawler yet. But you can see she’s up and rarin’ to go! I’m not ready for it. I don’t want to think my baby is growing up that fast. I don’t want to think that she might be our last because I don’t think either of us have it in us to go through that emotional turmoil again.

All my life I’ve been one of those people who is always looking ahead, always moving and working towards something bigger and better yet now I’m perfectly content holding on to these moments forever. For perhaps the very first time in my life, I’m happy exactly where I am.

I used to think about how lucky stay at home moms were to be able to take naps during the day. Now that I’m home with kids and not working, I’ve gotta tell you it’s not quite that simple but in a few easy steps you too, can master the art of napping while your children are awake. I can tell you I did this just the other day and I thoroughly enjoyed all 18 minutes of it.

Step 1, and this is the most important one: change your definition of a nap. Do you think of a nap as a restful, rejuvenating sleep? Well then it’s time to lower your expectations. A nap with children is defined as

Nap (verb) a period of time where one has their eyes closed in proximity of a bed or other soft flat surface.

There are we clear on that now? Okay on to the next step.

Step 2: find a childproofed room. Enclose self and children in said room.

Step 3: instruct older child not to leave room. Explain that doing so will result in the demise of Mickey Mouse.

Step 4: cover floor area with toys.

Step 5: if the room contains a bed, use this as your napping location. Be sure to check for Hotwheels cars under the covers.

Step 6: assist older child in using the bathroom.

Step 7: return to napping location.

Step 8: find missing part to the must have toy of the moment.

Step 9: return to napping location

Step 10: change poopy diaper

Step 11: return to napping location

Step 12: tune brain to emergency frequency. This is the essential step which allows you to safely ignore vague giggles, general toy noise and casual conversation. It allows you to become alert upon hearing things like, “Hey Allison,wanna fly?”

Step 13: close eyes

Step 14: nap (see definition above)

Step 15: warn older child that he is not to make his sister fly, jump off furniture, or play with drum set.

Step 16: give up

Step 17: convince yourself that your 18 minutes of “rest” were relaxing and rejuvenating.

Step 18: drink coffee and carry on with your day.

See, it’s easy!! I know right now you’re thanking me. You’re so welcome

Happy napping!

(No children were harmed in the writing of this post. It’s supposed to be funny so laugh. And leave comments cause that makes me happy. Don’t go calling child protective services on me now.)

I’m addicted to Pinterest but it irks me that I never think of any of the cool ideas first. Well I don’t know if this is original or not but I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking it up and figured hey, might as well share.

So you want to transport cupcakes for a bake sale and you don’t want them to get smushed but you also don’t want to use your nice cupcake carrier because you are afraid you’ll never get it back.

1.Get a large cereal box and take the bag of cereal out.

2. Tape up the opening.

3. Lay the box flat and then cut off one of the large sides.

4. Line with foil.

5. Insert cupcakes.

Voila!

(I know they’re not pretty, but that’s what happens when you are icing cupcakes at 10pm.)

The height of the box allows you to stack them without crushing or even damaging the icing. The boxes can also be thrown away after and I don’t have to worry about someone walking off with my $30 cupcake carrier.

You like? Well then, pin this!

I had a hard time selecting a picture this week but what it came down to was this one and one of Andrew playing violin at his recital. Thankfully both captured the idea I was looking for– you’ve gotta take risks. You’ve gotta put yourself out there and do what feels uncomfortable sometimes. You absolutely, positively, must take chances.

Too bad I’m the one who needs this lesson more than my kids.

Andrew is a worrier like me. But at the same time he doesn’t question some things and I find myself wanting to protect him but I know sometimes it’s better for him to just try and see what happens. I came across an article this week which was posted by a friend on Facebook. It goes with a long string of books and articles I’ve read in the last few years about not raising your kids to be wusses who are unprepared for the real world. Raising them in a bubble and protecting them for every harm and injustice– it’s just what moms are ingrained to do. But if we take a step back, worry less about self-esteem and ego and let them take their own chances we really are preparing them better for the future.

So when Andrew wanted to jump down all the very large concrete steps, I held back the urge to stop him and instead said “Jump higher so I can take a picture!”

And last night when he was nervous before his violin recital I didn’t say “that’s okay you don’t have to” or “let me help you”. I said “go up there and do what you know how to do!” And when he was done I didn’t tell him he was perfect or the best student out there or even that his playing was beautiful (um, sorry, it wasn’t). I told him how proud I was that he got up there in front of everyone.

I can only hope we both learned a few things: sometimes when you take a chance instead of failing, you learn to fly.

Want to join my circle? Let me know and I’ll link to you here!

WickedKate | Robo-Family | What We’re Sayin… | Finding Joy

I was at the mall the other day. It was just one of those trips to kill some time before picking Andrew up from school. There I was, pushing the stroller slowly through the fairly empty shops, contemplating the purchase of a Starbucks Frappuccino when all of the sudden I feel this magnetic force take hold of my body and brain. It’s the same force that draws some into places like Best Buy and the Apple store. But this one is a force that only moms feel. I know you know what I’m talking about.

Powerless to stop it and all thoughts of icy chocolaty coffee brushed aside, I maneuver my stroller and babbling baby in the direction from where my name is being called. I hear it whispering. “Come heeeere Emily, you know you NEEEEEED to.”

My pace quickens as I glance at my watch. Only 15 minutes before I need to be in the car. This is dangerous. I should go back and just get some coffee. But then I catch a glimpse of those bright orange letters and my pulse races and I cannot help myself. The stroller takes control and steers me right into the store.

And though the mall is mostly empty I can see that like me, other moms have been hearing the faint whispers too for the stroller traffic jam makes it hard to even enter the store.

That’s when I see it. Oh my gosh! They got new things! Yes! Look at that outfit. I MUST have that outfit. My mind stirs into a frenzy and I start fingering through the racks. AH there’s only one left! Yes and it’s even her size! Well I can’t put this down. What if someone else picks it up? Slow down, Emily, don’t go overboard now.

Then I glance over at the boy side of the store and while it’s hard to find cute boy clothes I never have much trouble here. It’s like the clothes are laced with crack and I need a fix. I’m frantically grabbing shorts and tops and dresses and headbands and socks and shoes and debating, should I get this one or that one? Oh heck, buy both, that’s what my mom always says!

I glance at my watch. No time to make decisions. I take the entire pile and put it down next to the register and try to quiet the heart palpitations while the cashier rings up the damage.

Three hundred and twenty dollars?!? Holy hell how did I do that in only 7 minutes? But WAIT. I get GYMBUCKS? You mean I get to come back here and spend MORE money? You mean I can buy that $50 dress that will only fit for about 3 months and ONLY pay $25 for it? Well see it’s like they’re paying ME to shop. I mean really that makes it practically free anyway.

Hands shaking I take my receipt, my Gymbucks and my credit card and shove them all in my wallet. Then hook the shopping bag on the back of the stroller as I push past other salivating moms through the store to the door. I glance at my watch again. It only took 11 minutes to do all that shopping. I have 4 minutes to spare! That is almost enough time for a Starbucks. But no, I feel the guilt rise up in my chest and walk past the funky haired baristas. Oh willpower! I’m so proud of myself!

As I walk to the car I start thinking about what I’m going to tell hubby when I get home. I do a mental inventory of the clothes they already have. I make a note that it’s time to start feeding Andrew more. His continued ability to fit into size 2T at age three and a half is seriously cutting in to my shopping strategy.

I get home and remove the tags and hang the clothes up in the closet. I breathe in the smell of new cuteness and debate in my mind which to have them wear first. I go back to the feelings of guilt as I look once again at the receipt. It’s like someone took control of my brain and my credit card and filled my kids closets. Damn you Gymboree you did it again.

I resolve not to go back to the mall any time soon. I know going there will only result in a summons from the store with the bright orange letters. I shall stay away. I shall not go near that store again. I shall be a good budget conscious mommy…. And I am…

… until it’s Gymbucks time again.

After months of self initiated practice of letter sounds I decided it was time to take the plunge and try a reading lesson with Andrew. Despite the fact that I am endlessly teaching my kids stuff, I don’t typically do any sort of formal instruction. But, I figured it was time (and yes, I miss teaching, especially teaching reading). I could see the desperation in his eyes, the longing to grasp this secret code of letters that so many people understand. We have started small, working on primer word lists and beginner books (Usborne Very First Reading series is excellent.) He has a good grasp of short vowel sounds and can sound out 3-4 letter words with ease. We’re so proud of him, yes. But even more than that is the joy that comes from sitting down and actually reading a book together. As parents we are both thrilled and scared of what to do about his educational future but in the meantime we’ll just enjoy it. Through his eyes, he’s just unlocked the secret to the rest of the world!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we have a reader!

(Photo setup was done by me, shutter button was pressed by Daddy)

Want to join my circle? Let me know and I’ll link to you here! (My apologies for forgetting to add this the last few weeks)

WickedKate | Robo-Family | What We’re Sayin… | Finding Joy

Shortly before I left the classroom for the last time back in June of 2011 I started thinking about my new career as a stay at home mom. The opportunity to take a yearlong maternity leave was a chance for me to really grow as a parent but at the same time, I was scared and somewhat directionless. That’s when I decided to approach parenting the same way I do teaching. I set out making a plan for each day and goals for the week, month, and year. I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping on top of the plan but lately I’ve been feeling like I’m getting lost again. Well, not so much lost as just in a holding pattern, a plane constantly circling the skies unsure of where to land. I spend most nights mulling over the day in distress, wishing I had done a better job. That’s when I realized I needed to go back to my teaching roots. In both undergrad and grad school I had to write a set of teaching philosophies. The most recent version is in my educational portfolio (link on the left hand side of this page). I decided what I needed was to write out my parenting philosophy. Just like in teaching, it is an evolutionary list but it encompasses a lot of the thoughts I’ve been having recently. These are goals I’m working towards and they are a work in progress but here you have it, my Mom-olosophy.

Silly me for planning a trip to Disney later in the year. Silly me because the best thing on the planet it already in our house, in our bathroom to be exact. In what was really my own effort to get the kids to bed more quickly one night, I grabbed the Bumbo seat and headed upstairs to the large garden tub in the master bath. Andrew was immediately giddy. “Allison and I are going to take a bath together?!?!”

What I didn’t expect, but probably should have, was that Allison would giggle through the entire bath, splashing like usual but laughing her high pitched tiny giggle at the entire situation. It was hard to get them out of the tub.

It was a joint effort, the four of us together in the bathroom laughing with our kiddos. Then came pjs and a bedtime story. It was an unexpected moment. A chance to pause what had been a very busy night and sit together and read and laugh and enjoy each others company.

I’m still planning that trip to Disney. It will be Allison’s first. But that simple night was a good reminder that true joy doesn’t cost anything and can be found at the most unforeseen times and  in the most unexpected places.

The other day, the four of us arrived home. Allison was sleeping in her carseat and Andrew went immediately to start playing with some toys. A and I went upstairs to put things away. Now let me be clear, I trust Andrew to be alone with his sister. No I would never leave him alone with her for an extended period of time (say, more than 5 minutes) but with her sleeping and him playing I wasn’t concerned. Next thing we know Allison is shrieking in pain. I’m sure our feet didn’t touch the stairs as we raced as quickly as possible to see what on earth had happened to our baby girl.

A rushed to unstrap her as I made it down the stairs a few steps behind him. There were no visible signs of injury, no blood, no marks, just a screaming infant and a crumpled heap of Andrew, sobbing on the floor. This is where confusion clouded my mind. What could he have done to her? The thought was so shocking I couldn’t stand it. I had to get to the bottom of it right away.

“What happened, Andrew?”

“I (sob) threw (sob) a toy (sob) at (sob) her.”

I paused to gather my thoughts. I could barely believe what I was hearing. My loving son who has never willfully hurt anyone in his life had throw a toy at his sister.

“Where did it hit her?” I asked.

“The face.”

Again I paused. “Was it an accident?”

(Please let him say yes, please let him say yes.)

“No”

“Did you mean to throw it at her?”

“Yes”

Now my mind races in the other direction. How do I punish him for this? Take away his Cars, or maybe his LeapPad. Is a time out enough? How will I express to him that he can’t hurt people, especially small helpless babies. I felt like crying myself. I just felt so confused. Why?

“Why Andrew?”

“I (sob) thought (sob) she (sob) would (sob) catch (sob) it… I’m so sorry.” (hysterics ensue)

Oh. I understand. He wanted to play catch with her. He didn’t realize she wouldn’t know to hold her hands up to catch the toy or ya, know, block her face. I forget sometimes that he’s only three.

By this point, Allison was completely calm and giggling again. Andrew, still teary, got up and told her he was sorry and kissed her on the arms and legs. She playfully pulled his hair. And after a chaotic 3 minutes, all was right with the world once again.

I guess this might seem like a strange story to explain the love between brother and sister but every time I think about it I feel a sense of gratitude for what they have in each other. His response to knowing he hurt her was utter devastation. His apology was both unprovoked and sincere. And her smiles and quick forgiveness helped him know that his sweet baby sister still very much loves him.

Every now and then I hear people talk about how they want another girl so their daughter can have a sister or another boy so their son can have a brother. But let me show you the love that exists between a brother and a sister, a brother who will always protect her and a sister who will always think he is the best big brother in the world.

A lot of people really hate valentines day, I am not a fan of it myself. But if we are going to celebrate anything let’s celebrate real love. Not what you find in a box of candies or a bouquet of roses but the love you find in those who know you best and who would do anything in the world for you: the love of family.