Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Yesterday, I came across a picture of myself holding the Little One under a rainbow.  I'd forgotten about that day.

We'd spent the afternoon at a friend's house, enjoying ourselves, but also realizing that we've ended up a bit on the periphery these days.  Not by anyone's intention, just circumstantially.  We don't go out much- we can't because money (none) and kids (two)- and we don't socialize nearly as much as we used to.  Not nearly as much as we'd like to.  We've gotten wrapped up in our own lives- in the ups and downs- and have forgotten to reach outside of our own little bubble.  We've almost forgotten how.

So anyway, we were on our way home from a lovely day that was both wonderful and bittersweet, because we realized how much we missed our friends, and we realized what hermits we've become.  We were driving quietly along and then there in the stormy clouds ahead of us, a rainbow appeared.  And not just any rainbow.  This was a big, bright, huge rainbow.

We were both struck by how giant this thing was.  I told my husband to pull over.  He looked at me like I was crazy- it was bedtime and we had two sleepy, cranky kids in the car- but then he got that sparkly look and pulled over anyway.  We jumped out of the car, unbuckling the kids, and we gazed at that big beautiful rainbow for a while.  Danced underneath it as it started to rain.  We took pictures of each other standing under that grand arch and just reveled in the beauty for a minute.  We stopped and looked.  We took it in.  We did the wildly illogical thing and enjoyed for a moment.

And it was glorious.  We weren't in the prettiest place in the world- just pulled over on the side of a busy road next to strip malls and chain restaurants- but it was perfect for a moment.  Because we stopped.  We looked.  We saw.  And we were together.

Sometimes I forget how important together is.  Not just as a family, but as people.  As friends, as loved ones, as lovers, as parents, as humans.  Together.  We all crave that intimacy, that understanding that we are in this together, and we get it.  Someone gets it.  That we are not alone.

I'm realizing quickly how much I cherish the people in my life and how often I forget to tell them- to show them- how important they are to me.  To just stop and enjoy them.  The people that tell me their stories and listen to mine.  The people that laugh with me, and cry with me.  The people that grin at my kids as they leap about the room, or the people that shake their heads with me as they screech and act like tiny monkeys.  The people that bring me joy, that encourage me, that bolster me, that support me.  My people.  They do a lot for me, and hopefully I do the same for them.

So, Squishy readers, don't forget: You are not alone.  You have people- even if it's just me and these words on a page.  Even if it's a text telling someone you love them.  Even if it's a voice on the end of a phone line.  Even if it's the person sitting next to you.  You have people.  Don't forget.  Stop.  And enjoy.

Growing Up & A Great Article

So much is changing with my little people every day.  They are artists and musicians, actors and detectives, scientists and mathematicians.  They want to see and learn and hear everything.  They bounce all over, soaking it all up.  And they are becoming the slightest bit more trustworthy and independent.  They are finally (FINALLY!!!) starting to play together for short periods without screeching, so from time to time, I get a moment to myself.  Sometimes I can pee without an audience, you guys!  It's a miracle!

And I can talk to them.  I can talk with them, and it is such a pleasure it catches me off guard sometimes.

The Little One's speech is growing by the day and he's able to tell me so much more about what he thinks about and observes around him.  He can tell me what "fwaired" him in the shadows behind the door.  He can explain his nightmares to me (in simple terms, but still).  He can tell me when and where he's hurt.  And he tell me when he's excited about something.  He can tell me me loves me, or wants a kiss, or wants to "cwimb on yap and wead a book."  He surprises me on a daily basis with his new tricks, and though he also surprises me with the depth of his stubbornness and willingness to test me, I adore that little boy to pieces.

The Big One.  So big!  He is so expressive now.  He's picking up words left and right and- to my delight- is using them.  Correctly!  His context is spot on, and he gets it.  My English teacher heart soars with every new word.  He's picked up gorgeous, humongous, enormous, and glum.  And he's used them all.  I cannot tell you how much I love it when he asks what a word means, and I watch him absorb the meaning as I explain.  My wonderful little word sponge.

They are so big already.  It happens so quickly.  I've found myself drawn to pictures of them both as babies, as though I can preserve that tiny part of them if I just remember.  If I only remember.  But they're no different.  They are bigger, more capable, naughtier... but they are still the same babies that I held and cuddled back then.  I look at the pictures and I see the same expressions, the same mischievous grins, the same goofiness, the same heart-breaking quiver when they'd begin to cry.  They are the same.  My babies.  Always my babies.

Here's a bit of their latest adorableness.  Enjoy and swoon with me at their preciousness, won't you?

Little One:
Thomas = hummus (this may tell you where his loyalties lie...)
Frinkle far = Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (That one took a while to figure out.  I kept thinking about Farkles the Unicorn.)
Fwaired = scared
Fweep = either sleep or sweep, depending on context

Big One:
After seeing a picture of me at my wedding, the Big One said, "Mommy, why are you wearing a blanket on your head?"  Touche, little dude.

"Mommy, you're a real superhero."  Damn skippy.

"I feel glum."  Well, then.


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Also, in case you don't follow me on Facebook (HEY!  YOU SHOULD FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK!!!), here is an article that is in beautiful opposition to all the "lean in" and "opt out" articles popping up all over the place.  It rings true for me, and likely rings true for many of you, too.

"For the average married mother of small children, it is often cheaper to stay home - even if she would prefer to be in the workforce. It is hard to "lean in" when you are priced out."

Sometimes, There is Good

Oh, hi!!!  How are you?!?  I know.  It's been a while.  We really need to do this more often.



This week has sucked.  The kids have been sick with fevers and coughing and have been exhausted human barnacles.  And now we're on to the aftermath of the sick which involves all of the whining, but none of the reasoning.  It sucks and I'm drained and it sucks.  But rather than talking about the suck (the whining... SO MUCH WHINING), I'm going to talk about something else.  Because I've had enough of the suck for today.

Instead, I'm going to talk about some things I've noticed lately.  Good things.  Silly things.  Things that make me smile.  Because really, those are the things I'll remember (and want to remember) in the long run.  So here they are. Some things that don't suck.

- The other day I told the Big One that I used to love to eat frozen peas when I was a kid.  He looked intrigued, so I gave him some in his school lunch.  He ate every last frozen pea.  I gave them to him again today, and the grown-up at his table at preschool raised his eyebrows and said, "Frozen peas, huh?"  And he smiled and said, "Yup!"  And I smiled, because, yup.  That's my guy.

- Kid perspective is awesome.  It is only after having kids that you get to hear things like this:
Big One - "Sometimes? Beans look like they're barfing."

- I noticed a little while ago that the Little One says, "Okay" in a very specific, adorable way.  I realized about a week ago that he says it just like me when I'm trying to comfort them.  I realized yesterday that I say it (and, therefore, the Little One says it) exactly like my grandmother says it.  I love it so much more now.

- Parenthood makes you realize weird things about yourself.  For example, I have learned that when I am pissed off or anxious, I clean the kitchen.  Why?  Dunno.  It makes me feel less anxious, certainly, but I think it also gives me an outlet for my anger.  (So many pots to bang around and stubborn counter stains to scrub at!!)  I just saved myself $500 in therapy!  Good job, me!

-Also, the sun came out (in May!  In Seattle!) and these things happened.  And they were good.

 Kid yoga is awesome.  We are stars.

 I am not as angry at the juice pouch as I look.

As you can see here, I am part vampire.

Wait, What?

After dinner the other day, I had an actual argument with my child over whether or not I could stick a marshmallow in his belly button.

It ended in long a fit of giggles, of course, and by the end of it I laughed so hard I cried.  I needed that.

I repeat a point I have made many times before: Parenthood is weird.

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I was pro-mallow-button, by the way.  Obviously.

Try Walking In My Shoes

The Little One has a shoe obsession.

He has always been obsessed with shoes- it was one of his first words in fact- and has long been stealing shoes out of the boys' shoe basket to wear around the house.  More recently, he's slipped on Daddy's sneakers or Mama's red Kanga's.

But lately, he has taken a particular shine to my fancier shoes.  He sneaks into the closet and comes out looking much snazzier than before.  Yesterday, he clomped by in my black studded flats.  Today, my red patent leather wedges, accessorized with a multicolored maraca.

This kid has style.

Wonder Woman

I'm gonna let you all in on a little secret.  Are you ready?  Susie Sunshine, I am not.

I know, I know.  This is shocking information.  Try to contain your astonishment.

Apparently, I'm Debbie Downer instead.  I've come to this realization, though it was probably obvious to everyone but me.  I would never have described myself as an optimist (I was once called "Bubbly" by a friend's boyfriend and I resented him for it for years), but I have always been great at cheerleading for others.  I can encourage and find the bright side and generally wax happy for anyone.  Except myself.  When it comes to my own life, I am decidedly pessimistic.  Sullen, even.  I cannot look on the bright side of my own life (although whistling this tune does help a lot:)

But life has been particularly redundant and decidedly unhelpful lately, and even whistling a Monty Python tune doesn't quite do it these days.  And, as a result, I fear I'm bringing other people down with me.  I think I'm becoming that grouchy person in the room that no one really wants to talk to, because they know it's all going to be bad news.

All of this to say (SEE!!  SO Debbie Downer.  Damn it.) that because I am in a place of blue that I can't quite squeak myself out of, I am going to write about the things I forget to focus on.  Because life gets in the way and the littles are so little that their unpredictability throws me for a loop, and I forget to focus on all the wonder of their littleness.  So today, I focus on that.  The wonder.  (Wonder Woman would totally kick Debbie Downer's ass, right?)

The Little One:
-He is now the same age his brother was when he was born.  Whoa.
-He adores all things vehicle and plays trucks and cars and trains contentedly for what seems like hours        sometimes.  His siren sounds have become increasingly realistic (read: LOUD).
-His cackle is infectious and he is jolly as all hell... until he is mad as all hell.  Then he is loud as all hell.  Regardless, it is always impressive.

The Big One:
-He is a reader extraordinaire.  He gets positively giddy when he receives a new book or one of his little magazines in the mail.  I hope this never, ever goes away.
-He has started saying, "You're the best!" to me and Daddy.  Of course, that means that neither one of us is actually the best, but I'll take it.  WAY more pleasant than the other oft heard "GO AWAY."
-After a long, long, LONG battle with constipation, we might be starting to win (maybe?) and he is finally going to the bathroom regularly.  Yesterday, he finally (FINALLY!!!) pooped on the potty of his own accord.  If you have kids, you totally get why this is so exciting.  If you don't, you are totally grossed out right now.  Sorry.

I will come up with more later.  In the meantime, it's enough to remind me that there is, absolutely, a bright side of life.  Doo doo, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo.  The Wonder Woman in me will kick that Debbie's ass yet.


* Totally random side note: I had an incredibly awesome set of Wonder Woman underoos when I was little.  I rocked them with such frequency and verve that my mom made me wristbands, a belt, faux boots, and that little crown/headband thing out of aluminum foil.  And a little yarn lasso.  It was awesome.  Why can't we run around like that as adults?

I am reminded that ComicCon exists.  Nevermind.


** UPDATE: Right after writing this, I found a post on a popular blog called Girl's Gone Child addressing a very similar feeling.  Whoa.  Good to know we are not alone in feeling... alone.  And that the solution is sometimes as simple as time with a friend.  Noted.

http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/09/liner-note-910.html