What I've Learned in Five Years of Marriage

Five years? Really?

(This is the part where Jake sighs and says, "Five LONG years," then grins and says, "I love you!" Ha ha.)

Five years and three kids later... here we are.

That makes it sound even crazier, but when you do the math and realize our oldest is seven, then clearly there is more to the story. I blogged about our love story in a three-part series last year, now it's time for a little reflection... so here I go.

I've learned...

Your wedding day is NOT the best day of your life. Being in the throes of labor, deciding to be superwoman and forgo the epidural, screaming at the top of your lungs while your husband tries to do what he can to comfort you, and pushing out your third baby girl after nearly 17 hours from your first contraction pales that in comparison. You're not as pretty that day, but that moment is more amazing than the kiss after the "I do."

Your husband will tell you that you need to brush your teeth. You will tell your husband he needs a shower. But it's good that you can stink together.

You'll roll your eyes when your husband can be nothing but sarcastic when you need him to be serious. He will roll his eyes when you tell him for the thousandth time that you have nothing to wear... never mind that the closet in your bedroom only houses your clothes. (It's a small closet, in my defense.)

You will both try to stifle laughs when your three-year-old unknowingly uses her middle finger to point at EVERYTHING, and even more so that your seven-year-old has no idea what it means either.

You will both cringe at each other's driving. Your husband will be able to sing off-key to the songs on the radio, but it just so happens his pet peeve is people singing along to the radio. Never mind that you can actually sing.

You will join a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group for support and friendship and have your time away from the house and your job. Your husband will have his Thursday night out with the guys. And you're always glad to see each other when you get home.

Your husband has a chance to take a service trip to Estonia (which can only be described as a God-story), and even though the trip is over your daughter's and your birthdays, you want him to go because you know that it would be an incredible opportunity for him. (And he wants to go back.)

You will worry about your children, about your parents, about each other. You'll get grumpy with each other even when you know better. You'll snap at each other, get annoyed with each other... but one of you will always break and apologize. It's not always easy, but you work through it.

One of you will be the hard @$$ when it comes to certain issues in parenting, one of you will be the softie. Sometimes that role reverses. And your children will know how to play you when you're the softie.

Your husband will never fill up the toilet paper holder. You will never empty the vacuum. Yet somehow you manage to keep your house at a minimal disaster area (it helps that we're trying to sell the house too).

I never imagined after we met nearly 19 years ago that we would've ended up here, but it's been an incredible ride... even when it involves icky chores like cleaning up the sink after he cuts his hair, and him unclogging the bathtub drain, my hair being the culprit.

But at the end of the day, I am blessed beyond measure to live with my best friend. Happy anniversary babe!

A Week That Was...

If you were to read some of my teenage journals, you may find a couple pages drawn with high hills and deep plummets to mark the "rollercoaster" of my life, each peak and trough marked by an event (most of which had to do with boys... stupid boys). I know that being married with children leaves you open to all sorts of unpredictability. This past week was sort of a mini-rollercoaster of events.

We started off Monday coasting up a hill with the prospect that the home we placed a contingent offer on was back in our court after being snatched away by people, who turned out to be unable to get financing. With spring FINALLY arriving, we thought we'd get some traffic through our home. Alas, the contingent house was just not meant to be as it got snagged away a day later, this time for real. Go figure we should end up getting two showings this weekend. And I'm not sure how much we care since the viewers will probably complain about our low ceilings, as have 98% of the people who've been through our home. We're content here (and also really picky when it comes to selecting another home), but sometimes it sure would be nice to have a bigger kitchen and bedrooms. At this point, we're just waiting it out a couple more weeks to see what else comes on the market (and hoping those short people who don't like to cook will find our home a perfect fit).

Thursday brought surgery for Kelsey for her mycobacterium infection that just won't go away. (If you don't know the story, and are interested enough to learn about this, I've blogged about it before... maybe last September?) However, she'd been fighting a cold, so we knew it might not happen. She walked into the same-day surgery center with confidence until her ENT marked her jawline with a pen... and then mommy and daddy heard, "I want to go hooooommmme," for 20 minutes afterward. After the pediatric anesthesiologist listened to her, she assessed that we postpone the surgery until her cold is gone. On May 9th, we'll get to do it all over again. Maybe now that she's had a trial run, it won't be so bad next time...

Thursday also brought Jacey's 9-month checkup. As I plopped her onto the scale and saw she only weighed 14 lbs. 14 oz. (a gain of only 1 lb. 5 oz. in three months time), the nurse said she's sort of falling off her weight curve. I'd planned to discuss my concern over her still spitting up (like a fountain at times) now that she's eating solids, nursing and drinking formula. Her pediatrician said she's not wasting away, and it doesn't appear to be a food allergy or reflux. The kid doesn't projectile vomit or cry when she spews (she's seriously one of the most content babies ever), and although she's got a good appetite, something just isn't quite right. So he ordered a GI scan, which frankly, after all the puking she's done today (it hardly seems like anything stayed in her belly), April 19th can't come soon enough.

It's not been the worst week ever (by far), but it's not been a stellar week either. My natural pessimistic attitude sometimes overshadows how I feel about these situations (and frustrates my hubby), but in beginning a new week, I hold fast to the wisdom of James 1:2-3... "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." I see the pure joy of Averey's enthusiasm, Kelsey's boldness, Jacey's sweetness, and approaching nearly five years of marriage to my dear husband... as a family, we'll get through these hiccups (and baby barf), look back and see how God orchestrated it all.

My blog-iversary!

Well, it's official. I've been blogging for a year now. Clearly that gives me the right to use a corny term in my title.

I hope during that time I've been able to encourage other moms so that they don't feel bad about their own chaotic situations. While I haven't maintained consistency (an entry daily, every other day, or every week even), I think 42 entries in the past year isn't anything to sneeze at considering I've been feeling hectic in my own life situations.

I also hope that I've been able to make people laugh. While I don't consider myself funny, I've been told multiple times that this entry or that entry made someone giggle or altogether laugh out loud, I guess maybe I must be somewhat humorous. And really, in a house full of loud silly girls, there's bound to be a lot of laughs, even when the situation that presents itself isn't quite laughable in the moment.

So here's to more entries, maybe more consistency, and always inspiration, which never runs dry in this house.

Would You Like Some Cheese With That Whine?

We have been getting an earful of whining, tattling, grumbling, and bawling this weekend. Between on-the-go Kelsey who cries at the drop of a hat (at seeing her dinner plate--never mind she's the non-picky child; at us persuading her to go to the bathroom, because her socks aren't on right, whatever the un-rational reason may be), and Averey who whiiiiiines incessantly ("I'm hungry, thirsty, bored", "Kelsey's hitting, punching, looking at, breathing on me!"), we've had them both in a time-out chair this weekend. I've had to separate them twice (which made them both cry, even though they weren't in trouble), and we've had to ask them to clean up their messes for the umpteenth time.

If I felt like bundling (and un-bundling) them in their snow clothes, I have half a mind to send them out in the snow just so they can fuss and whine outside!

But oh, I am hating the snow. I'm tired of cold weather. I can't stand my winter clothes anymore. I want to wear sandals. I need some fun spring clothes and shoes. I need a haircut and highlights. I want someone to come through our house and not comment on the low ceilings. I want someone to actually put an offer on our house. I want that bigger kitchen in THE house we've placed an offer on. I want...

Oh, was I complaining about my children whining? Hmm.

Perhaps we all need a lesson on not whining: Philippians 2:14 "Do everything without grumbling or arguing..." 

I know my circumstances are great. I am thankful for so much in my life. Sometimes I just let those trivial things get in the way. And above all, I thank God for Jake, who is able to deal with all of this feminine whining without whining himself. Well, he may grumble a bit... but I think he's earned it. He is sinking in this sea of estrogen after all.

Trying to Escape the Neon

Shopping has always been a favorite pastime of mine. When I can clothes shop for my girls by myself, I am happy as a clam. Yesterday, I set foot in Gymboree, to browse and select Easter-y clothes for my trio. With the coordinating colors and outfit decisions, it is a haven for a mother of three girls like myself (and pure torture for my husband). I finally settled on one of the new spring lines with lilac, buttery yellow and green. The outfits, classic and able to be worn again (I don't believe in buying fancy Easter dresses: completely impractical for my girls' wardrobes), passed down from girl to girl, and (thankfully) my girls loved the choices I made (but they have yet to complain about anything I bring home).

Since I had some time to myself at the mall, I checked out a couple of other stores, and then I headed into Justice with much trepidation. I've heard Averey mention Justice a couple times this school year; since I go to the mall typically by myself, I've purposefully avoided it. But the sales looked incredible, and surely I could find something suitable for Averey.

I walked into perpetual neon, lace, animal prints and peace sign barf. I know sequins and glitter are fun, and I wore my fair share of shiny, glittery, obnoxious clothing in high school and college. I know my middle school wardrobe had its fair share of neon too. I just can't say there would be much in there I would feel good about my 7-year-old wearing to school... especially because they go up to size 16. And in browsing in a couple of other department stores too, the neon was overpowering, and honestly, a lot of it just looked trashy. (Since when did skulls become "cute"?)

So either I just have good taste or I am out of style. I'm going out on a limb to say it's the former rather than the latter. Thankfully, Jake and I share the same view on clothes, so he doesn't usually mind my Gymboree sprees.

I know the day is coming when I won't be able to shop for my girls' clothes without them in tow, and I know they'll be giving their opinions. My hope is that I've dressed them well and modestly enough while they're young so they make wise clothing choices when they're older. For now, I'll just find solace in the non-neon environment of Gymboree (and a couple other select stores).

I can see it now: as teenagers, they'll probably be wearing some obnoxious clothing, and I'll tell them that they will laugh at those clothes when they're older (just like my mom told me), and I will be hopelessly out of style (even if I know I am still in style). Fashion and motherhood share a vital characteristic: everything comes full circle.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

Let me run my disclaimer here: I honestly can't say I'm sleep deprived, or have suffered from much sleep deprivation during my 7-year career as a mother. My girls have been (mostly) awesome sleepers as infants, toddlers, preschoolers. Also, don't take that as bragging either. Because some nights are better than others...

Like last night, for instance.

Jake is ready to be rid of the baby monitor in our room. However, I am hesitant to let it go (even though I can't remember the last time I got up to comfort Jacey in the middle of the night) simply because her room is at the front of our house, and I fear that if she does need me during the night, I won't hear her. I'm not sure that she needed me last night, but oh, did I hear her. Between the babbling and fussing, she was making her presence known on the monitor.

Sandwich that between my cracked-out vivid dreams (I thought those were supposed to end with pregnancy, and NO I am NOT pregnant!), finding myself in a position with my arms above my head (and one arm falling asleep) and Kelsey yelling out because of a bad dream, I don't know if I caught any ZZZs between 3 and 5:15.

Kelsey needed some comforting (thankfully in her own bed), her blankets, her lovey and her sleep mask. I fumbled around for these items in the dark until she remarked, "Turn on the night light mommy." Even a night light was going to blind me, but I had to make sure I could find that darn lovey. Averey awakens to say, "It's another lovey mystery!" We seem to go on a mad witch hunt for lovey on a daily basis, which baffles me because it's her thumb-sucking companion. You think she wouldn't let it out of her sight!

The desired sleep articles were found, and I crawled back in bed. I'm not sure how much time elapsed, but probably not enough since I sat straight up when the girls' door cracked open. This time it was Averey. "I can't fall back asleep." Instead of guiding her back to bed and comforting her, I snapped, "Well, I can't fall back asleep either because you girls keep waking me up!" My curtness must have done the trick though, because I had to wake her up at 7:15.

I realize that as a mother (and father, as Jake has had his fair share of nights awake when the girls come to his side of the bed) that I won't sleep as well as I did in a former life. And as I'm sleepy again and haven't even started my work day yet, I try to maintain a sense of thankfulness that this is not a nightly occurrence. I sympathize for those moms out there who truly are sleep-deprived zombies.

When I do catch the girls sleeping, they do look absolutely angelic: thumbs hanging on Kelsey's and Jacey's lips for dear life, a lump of Averey underneath her blanket somewhere, and Jacey arched into a frog position (how is that even comfortable?). Through their contorted positions, tossing and turning, they still sleep better than me.

If we get a new mattress here soon, maybe I'll be sleeping just as well... just in time for them to have a nightmare and want to sleep in our bed.

Accidental Potty-Training

Accidental potty-training? you ask. I am well aware there are plentiful accidents in potty-training, but yes, you can accidentally potty-train your child.

Take Kelsey, for instance. We started training her in November of 2011 when we found out I was pregnant. Actually, we learned her cues and promptly sat her on the pot. She was a harder sell than Averey (potty-trained in one weekend, and then in underwear at night four months later--seriously), but she got it. Eventually.

By spring, she would wake up dry occasionally. I figured we were in the home stretch. Jacey's birth negated all of that progress. But since the new year (a resolution on her part?), she's been waking up dry every morning.

Yesterday morning at 6:30, she entered the bathroom as I'm exiting the shower. She wanted to sleep in our bed, but I had already made it. She choked out a few crocodile tears, and then stopped as she realized something. "Mommy! I slept in my underwear and I'm dry!" I patted her bottom, and sure enough, there was no Pull-Up. Whoops. Jake and I failed. Again.

Post-bath, we put her in underwear until bedtime, because more than once, she has decided it's appropriate to pee in her Pull-Up. A couple months ago, we forgot the Pull-Up and got lucky. Same story Wednesday morning. With my towels wrapped around me, I made my way to the phone to tell Jake the good news. Kelsey emphatically told her daddy she slept in underwear and stayed dry, and Jake said to me, "Well, we dodged another bullet."

Last night, Jake rolled the dice and left her in underwear, and we both were clapping for Kelsey at 6:30 this morning in the bathroom when she was dry. A sight to behold, I'm sure.

There are many thrilling moments you get to experience as a parent. I just never expected to be so enthusiastic over dry underwear... at 6:30 in the morning... in the bathroom... just after I've showered.