Roar

So I yell scream at my kids regularly. On any given day I scream so much my throat hurts by the time I hit the hay. I'm loud. Annoyingly loud. Stop right there. Please don't forward me the article floating around FB about how you shouldn't scream at your children. I do and I'm okay with it. Yes, I recognize it's ineffective but I continue to do it regardless.  Must have something to do with my need for being in control.  Apparently yelling and screaming at them gives me the false sense that I'm actually in charge.  Perhaps I should just surrender to the fact that nobody listens to me no matter what tone I take. Ouch.

Last Saturday in the YMCA lobby I was yelling so loud at M & N I'm pretty sure the phones stopped ringing, the coffee machine stopped brewing and the kid climbing up the rock wall lost his footing. It was bad. The worst part is that the people around me were totally disturbed while my kids remained completely  unfazed. Surrender.  Just surrender.

Here's what I don't understand.  If someone yelled at me the way I yell at my children I would totes write them off or get in my wagon and try to run them over.   My kids on the other hand keep coming back for more. It doesn't matter how often or how loudly I scream they are beyond obsessed with me. M & N are the only two human beings on this planet that are truly enamored with me. Like totes smitten.

I must admit - I love it. Well, I love it except when its time for me to do tinks, toots or shower.

It's scary to think at some point the tables will be turned and they'll be screaming at me. It's scary to think that although their love for me is unconditional (I hope) that they won't always be so smitten and obsessed. It's scary to think one day they'll say they hate me, I embarrass them, or that they want me to go away.  It's scary to think they'll grow up and tell me I'm not that cool (despite the fact I think I'm the cat's meow). It's all just scary.

 Glasses, greasy hair and gym clothes. It doesn't matter to them now and hopefully it won't 10 years from now. At this time, in this moment the only thing I can do is enjoy it.  Enjoy that I go to bed hoarse. Enjoy the looks of dismay in the YMCA lobby. Enjoy their love. Enjoy them and all their naughtiness. xox

Two & Through

My family is complete.  I have two kids a husband and a dog. So save yourself the breath no need to ask if we're having a third child. NO.  For once the Big Guy and I are on the exact same page - two & through.  It's prolly the only thing we're 100% certain of. Actually, I'm 100% certain that I need this DY necklace with M & N charms but hell, I won't hold my breath.  So don't waste yours and I won't hold mine. Woof.

Having 3 children seems to be the "norm" these days.  In fact, most of my friends and family have 3 kids. For all you mamas and dadas that have three or more kids - I'm in awe of you everyday.  Kudos. Very big kudos.  

In the rare and very unlikely event that we do decide to expand our family I would adopt.  The reasons being: 1)  it's something I've always wanted to do 2) I would adpot a teenager old enough to watch M & N so I don't have to pay my sitter $18 an hour. Bam. Wicked smart. 3) I'm petrified to get pregnant and give birth to another preemie.

Here is why two is enough for this gal:

• I cannot sacrifice anymore of my myself.  I don't think I have anything left to give. Truly.  The more kids you have the more of yourself and your time you have to sacrifice.  I don't think I can go there. I'm working on getting me back.

• My marriage cannot withstand another child. Seriously. Marriage is hard work.  Anyone who says otherwise is full of crap. Marriage with children is super hard work.  Anyone who says otherwise is extremely full of crap.  It's not easy. Then again, nothing worth doing is easy.

• You've read this before. I'm not a natural.  Motherhood does not come easy to me.  I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing and I'm okay admitting this.  The only thing I know how to do is make  homemade mac and cheese to feed them and to love them.  Other than that I'm flying by the seat of my pants. {NPF4 just got over a staff infection. I failed to tell the doctor that I left him diaper-less and unattended for all of 4 minutes and he crapped himself.  When I came back into the room he was playing with his toots like it was Play-Doh} Case in point.

• I'm insanely materialistic.  Again, you've read this before. I love stuff. I love spending money on ME.  More kids = less spending on me. 

• I want to go to the bathroom and be able to fully wipe my behind without holding a 1 year old and having my almost 3 year old trying to paint my toenails at the same time. Along the same lines - I would love to shower alone, talk on the phone alone, shop alone. You get my point.  Another wee one in the house just prolongs all this alone time I'm apparently craving. 

• My V can't handle it.  Enough said on this one. 

• I'm a runner.  I want to start training and running marathons. My running options at the moment - 4am or 11pm and I can't image they would improve with another tot in the house.

• I would have to buy a bigger car.  Absolutely not. Volvo does not make anything larger than the wagon.  True fact.  No, the SUV is not larger inside based on square footage.  I swoon over Volvo's and I will not drive any other car. With that being said a third child would have to be strapped to the roof.

• Signs.  I believe in signs.  The fact that NPF4 is here with us today is nothing short of a miracle.  I don't take one bit of my good fortune for granted and I am blessed and content with two healthy children. Trying for a third would be like playing with fire.

• Oh and the best reason of all - I'm a smart gal and I know my limits.  I've reached my limit.  I'm okay with this and being honest with myself.

Ta da!  What a lovely lil' list. You're enlightened - so keep on breeding my friends! xox

hello, 2014

O hi. I've missed you. I know, you've missed me more.Obvi.

2013 is over so naturally I find myself compelled to bestow all the wisdom and knowledge I've gained this past year onto YOU.  Yes, you feel like you've hit the lottery.  You'll be rich in mind, body, and spirit after reading this post. Speaking of rich - one of my goals for 2014 is to "be rich."  Legit.  Big guy and I had a lengthy conversation about how to bring this to fruition in 2014.  It ended with -  well, nothing.  Absolutely nothing. I digress.

Back to the other kind of non-monetary richness you'll gain after reading this. 

So I'm totes one of those gals that always needs a "project." I always need a focus, a to-do list.  I can't sit still - I've never been good at loafing around. I'm not happy unless I have something to work toward or look forward to.  It kind of sucks.  For a long time I beat the crap out of myself for never just "being." Being content in the moment doesn't work for me - or maybe it does but it's super hard.  Before I even finish one project or task I'm already asking myself "what's next?" 

Planning a wedding. Training and running marathons. Perfecting my house. Focusing on being skinny. Trying to get prego. Blah. Blah. Blah. You get it. I think.

When you live life this way often times you forget to enjoy the present because you're so focused on the future. But what happens when the Big Guy makes one statement and somehow it all becomes clear. Yup, this rarely occurs because 85% of the time I'm not really listening especially when the Big Guy is doing the talking. I know, I'm keeping you in suspense.  You're dying to know what he said.

But first you have to get through this:

Last March I came home from a 6 mile run, laid on my kitchen floor dripping in sweat and cried like a baby.  I looked up at the Big Guy and said "I'm lost. I'm so lost and I feel so out of control." Like really?  Lost? If someone said that to me I prolly would have handed them a map and said be on your way. Now, the Big Guy is a total pain in my ass but somehow he managed to say the right thing in this moment. He responded  - I know. I was just waiting for you to ask for help.  It's ok.  We can do this.

And so it began the journey to figure out what I'm doing with myself and my life.  Amazing huh? I know, you're still waiting for the words that changed it all.  Well the short of it is that not until after NPF4 turned one in October did I start to feel like me again. Yup, I'm a slow bloomer.  I blame it on the Big Guy because had he made this statement when I was having my meltdown back in March instead of October the year may have played out a tad different.  

This was all it took - YOU'RE LIVING THE LIFE YOU ALWAYS WANTED. What? Ding. Ding. Ding.  Is he right? OMG.  Was this it?  Could that simple statement  be the kick in the ass that I need to get it together?

Back in 1999 the Big Guy and I would hop in his car and drive from Merrimack College to Marblehead and  admire all the houses and talk about how amazing it would be to live there.  To raise a family there.  When I recall those conversations all I remember is that I wanted a home in Mhead and a family.  Go figure - I have the house and two healthy children. We have each other, health and happiness.  I'm working on the wealth.

Cheers and happy 2014. This is my year and I'm beyond excited to live it and more importantly to live it in the moment. xox

Daisies & Diapers

Well hello. Yesterday I sent this little box o' goodies to the Big Guy at work.  Twelve pineapple daisies dipped in chocolate.  The card read: Dada enjoy your daisies because we bought them with your credit card. Love - M, N & Brody.

It wasn't a kind gesture or a nice little treat to reward him for working so hard. Nope.  I'm not that sweet of a wife.  What I do know is that I will remind him about this box of daisies when he realizes that I flushed a dookie diaper down the toilet. Don't worry, I picked up all my TB flats off the floor and have my pants rolled in anticipation of the flood.  I know.  You were concerned. 

I'm off.  I need to fetch M from my bedroom where she is sitting on the bed eating a DiGiorno pizza watching Calliou. Oh, the horror. Child watching T.V., eating frozen pizza in the middle of the day.  At least she is sitting on the Big Guy's side of the bed.  I've got that going for me. xox

fun police

O hi.  It's been a month.  Not my fault. Yup, for once in 34 years it's not my fault. Place the blame on a 6'3 bald guy I like to call the fun police...

Mid August the Big Guy asked me if I would stop blogging about our family hence the reason I've been MIA.  Okay, I get it.  He's a private person and doesn't want his cluster of a life displayed for all to read. Write about anything just not our family he says. Oh, sure, because my life is so exciting and I have so many other things to write about.  Not that my family life is all that enthralling either but for some reason ya'll read this garbage.  I've got a sneaking suspicion you read because my life makes you feel better about your own. Ouch.

I injected myself in the stomach with cancer causing fertility meds to get pregnant with these kids and sat in a hospital bed for 40 days to stay pregnant with one of them.   I do believe I've earned the right to share some pieces of us using this blog as my outlet.  The good, bad, happy, sad and quite truthfully the downright hilarious. He haw.

Here is why I have two issues with this request.  1)  has the FP not seen my FB page?  I mean c'mon.  There isn't much I don't share. 2)  I'm writing a book.  I've been writing a book (like one word a month) for the last 3.5 years. The title of the book includes the word vagina. You don't get much more personal than that.  So for those reasons I should blog.  I need to blog.  Scratch that.  I need to write.  There is something incredibly cathartic about sharing my thoughts, feelings and raw emotions. Barf.

So where shall I go from here? I can blog about Tory, Kate and David but truly, I think you get the point.  I. WORSHIP. THEM. Taking about the stuff I'm currently coveting is fun and writing about all the things I want and cannot afford is great, don't get me wrong, but it perpetuates the vicious addiction I have to spending the Big Guy's hard-earned money. 

Perhaps I just need to buckle down and get serious about writing that book.  After all, I work 3 days a week and have a husband that works 90 hours a week - I've got a ton of spare time to sit, sip some tea and type my days away. {insert sarcastic grin here} xox

365

Last Labor Day weekend I was admitted to BWH. It was right around 8pm that the Big Guy and I were being prepped for what it would be like to deliver a 23 week old baby. We met for two hours with doctors from the NICU. Every second of the conversation was truly horrifying. I didn't make eye contact with the Big Guy once. I couldn't. I knew if I looked at him and saw fear in his eyes it would be the end of me.  I can't recall any other time in my life when I was this petrified {except on the evening that I actually gave birth to NPF4}. It wasn't until the NICU doctors asked us if we had any questions that I glanced at my hubby of six years and started sobbing uncontrollably. All he said was "we can do this." Of course he would say this.  He always says this. He says this for one reason - because it's true.  We always survive.

Adapt and overcome - the Big Guy's life motto.  Words I'm forced to live by. Perhaps reluctantly live by is more accurate. We are fighters and it's quite obvious our sweet NPF4 is also a fighter. He held on.  He waited another 10 weeks to make his debut. Our life today would be very different had he made his appearance last year at this time.  

So cheers to our little fella and being in a much happier, healthier place than 365 days ago. xox

Pretty Little Liar

I commute into the city 3 days a week for work.  Scratch that - it's more like 1.5 days a week because my kids are always sick. Barf. Today was no different than any other day except that it took every ounce of my being not to roll down my window and yell at each and every female runner I passed along the way on my drive to workies.

I so desperately wanted to beep my horn, startle them and scream "I'm faster than you!"  "I'm faster than you with a jogging stroller and I'm way faster than you without one." "Wanna race?"  I was contemplating screaming these sentiments at the top of my lungs as I cruised through M'head, Swampscott, Lynn and Revere in my wagon.  Bitter? Just a tad.  

Tomorrow I hope I don't see anyone running on my commute in.  I want these women to sit on their respective couches, eat chocolate frosted donuts and get fat.  Really fat.

Clearly I haven't mastered the art of letting go just yet....

white out

Met our painter last Wednesday night.  He showed up with our contractor and within 4 minutes of them being at the house M threw a major nutty and NPF4 followed suit.  M was my little shadow walking directly behind me - arms raised yelling uppie, uppie, uppie, uppie.  Ugh.   NPF4 decided that since M was making so much noise he might as well join in on all the fun.  Of course neither of my naughties would let the Big Guy hold them so M was in one arm and N in the other. Annoying.  Wicked annoying.

Give NPF4 bottle -he simmers down.  Sit M on the floor with an epic bowl of cereal and she zipped it as well.  Begin discussion with painter, contractor and the Big Guy. 

Painter - I see you like pastel colors.  

Me- No, I hate pastels.

Painter- Oh, because the samples you have on the wall are pastel.

Me- I know.  I've got a few screws loose.

Contractor- Laughing. 

Painter-Laughing.

Pete- Rolling eyes

Me-Excuse me for a moment. I'm going out to the garage to chug a few Summer Shandy's.

Painter- Excellent beer.  Nice choice. {I wish he thought my paint selections were nice}

Big Guy- Would you like one? {OMG. Loving this moment. I can't believe he just offered a future worker at our home a beer}

Painter- No thanks. 

Okay, now that you have all that pertinent background.....

The new family room is going to be painted linen white or cloud white.  I left the final decision up to the painter.  BUT, the kicker is that we need to repaint the kitchen.  Apparently {according to the painter} it will look odd if the new family room and kitchen are not the same color.  Really?  Cause I don't think so.  We are now having the kitchen painted as well despite the fact that its totes not in our budget.  Oops. I can't say I'm disappointed by this because I'm not in love with the current C2 Buckwheat that is on the wall right now. My whole first floor is now going to be 50 shades of white.  Love.

With NPF4 in tow and M now done with her cereal we take the party upstairs.  Again, painter comments on my penchant for pastels, which are plastered all over our bedroom wall.  In the meantime, Brody goes to the corner of our room and barfs.  NPF4 decides he's going to be a follower {again} and barfs all over my super cute dress. In the midst of discussing how I am color blind my contractor looks out the window and asks me if my neighbor is okay. Look out the window to see an unknown boy, shirtless, laying on the ground kissing flowers while my neighbor holds a video camera taping him. Painter and contractor just stare out the window laughing.  My only comment - oh good, now I don't look so crazy. 

Back to the paint.  I decided on Fanfare for the bedroom and closet and Graytint for the bathroom. Stay tuned.  I'm sure once the colors are on the wall I'll hate em' because apparently I'm color blind.

Public Service Announcement:
To all the local Headers out there {love that I just wrote Headers} - at roughly 3:30 pm today when the man o' the house arrives home you're going to feel the earth move with his fury. Our shower door was just installed and there is a $2,165.93 bill waiting for him....take cover. xox

anchors aweigh

I've been sporting J Crew for a better part of my life.  My obsession began in high school and to this day I'm still crushing on all things JC. I never have to try anything on - I know my size in slacks, shirts, skirts and shoes, which makes ordering online a cinch.  Interestingly enough every pair of $118 pants fit me perfectly. Go figure.

Okay, to my point. Who am I kidding.  I don't  have one.

JC + my nautical craze {specifically anchors} = fun, fun, fun. Riveting.  I know. The elementariness {is this even a word} of my posts is pathetic.  I digress.  Here are some nifty nauticals I'm currently loving from JC and JCF.


For the gals - big n' small

 

For the gents - big n' small

 

Love me some anchors. xox

letting go

It wasn't until after the birth of NPF4 that I started letting go. I had to in order to maintain some type of sanity. I can go to bed with the house semi-messy {still can't have dishes in the sink}, with laundry left in the dryer and shoes sitting by the front door. Yes, this is letting go for me. Yes, my house still looks like a museum but mostly because the Big Guy refuses to let go.  He's a work in progress. At some point I imagine he'll surrender.

I no longer beat myself up for not working out 7 days a week.  I'm satisfied with sweating it out at the gym 2-3 times a week instead. I've even taken a break from my passion; running.  If I can manage a 4am or 11:30pm run I do it.  If not, so be it.

So when the addition we just put on our home turned into a dance floor (a rather expensive one}for M and her friends I just let it go. My visions of mimicking a space similar to the images in Coastal Living have quickly dissolved.  Instead I'm on the hunt for a disco ball. Strangely enough, I'm okay with it. The joy M and her friends get from dancing, running in circles, and rolling around on the floor is better than any imagine in a home decor magazine. Well, kind of.  I still swoon over every single pic in Coastal Living. 

 So cheers to dancing {naked & painted}kiddies, disco balls and just letting go... xox