Today was an awesome day. I have talked with several people recently about how my kids are amazingly overwhelming. They overwhelm me, and I often think they must seriously overwhelm other people on a constant basis. They are continually feeding off each others energy... and they get so wound up so fast. Marek has a new (well, maybe it's just now getting incredibly annoying) extremely high-pitched girly scream. People always think it was Marek, but he can out scream her anytime now.

In the last few days Evan and I have looked at each other, I can't tell you how many times we say WHAT have we done WRONG. How did we get to this point? It's not like we don't discipline, or we don't give time outs, or give spanking after they have been warned repeatedly and in time out, or like we haven't lay down the rules, or anything like that. Perhaps people without kids (who don't really understand, even if they think they do) think that we have spoiled ungrateful kids.... but honestly I am not as worried about what other's think as worried about them turning into these two hellions that we can't control ourselves. So, anyway, I was relieved after a recent conversation that led to a more experienced older parent saying that he still asks himself everyday "where did I go wrong" even though his children are from age 9-18. At least I am not the only one.

This morning I woke up with a new attitude. We had things that we wanted to do, and I made absolutely certain that there was no question in the kids' minds.... if we don't work together to accomplish what we NEED to get done, to finish our chores, then we will not do the fun thing that we have planned for later. So today, we had a playdate planned after lunch with Christiana at Plow Creek. I am sure that I was more excited than anyone, because I just adore her (and her kids of course) but the kids were not privy to the information... because all I said was that we had a playdate and I wasn't telling them where until we were almost there.

So, believe it or not, they got dressed and brushed their teeth and we got hair all done and had blueberry pancakes and strawberries with orange juice, and then we went ahead and picked up the playroom and the bedroom. Actually THEY cleaned both rooms and made their beds. Then we went outside and took the chickens out. We put everything back "out" in the yard... (after Evan mows, all the toys are stacked up on the sidewalk and we have to put all the toys back.) and the kids played while I started working outside. I planted all but one last square of the garden, (I had 5 left) adding Pickling Cucumbers, Lavender, and Sweet Mint. Now I have ONE Square left. What to plant, what to plant. So anyway, I planted in the garden, added a perennial to the "new" triangle garden in front of the fence, and then hung out a load of clothes. Then I sold $15 worth of goodies from my "sale" tote and made the kids lunch before we took off to go to our playdate. So, a very successful morning.

The realization that I came to? I am a drill sergeant. At toddler boot camp. They have attitudes, and they have their own opinions, and it is my job to keep them on track, and perhaps in some ways to break them down in order to build them up. Being a drill sergeant is QUITE exhausting. From afar, a military drill sergeant's job looks cushy... but it must be EXHAUSTING. I know I am exhausted. Constantly trying to keep them on task. And you need to know, I am not that strict. My house is not immaculate. (FAR from it) But when I ask you to put your sopping wet stinky pee loaded PULL UP in the "diaper chomper" (code for Diaper Genie) please do not repeatedly leave it on the bathroom floor. I will tell Ardyn TWICE a DAY to put a pull-up where it goes. It frustrates me. Just the repeated keeping her on task, and Marek by association, is exhausting. And now there is the screaming fighting arguing over toys thing. But that's to be expected I guess. So, I guess I have to just come to the realization that I will have to be a drill sergeant. And hope that I continue to have enough energy to keep up with them.

Now, Plow Creek was awesome, and Christiana is great. I feel like we have such similarities, especially in our interests and sense of humor, that I really like being able to just hang out with her and watch our kids go batty. Today they played in the house for quite a while. Then they wanted to go outside and it was a GORGEOUS day. We looked at the goslings, and the goats, and the scottish highland cattle across the pasture in the shade. Then we checked out the CSA garden, which was so cool, and right next the Christiana's house and yard. Their rhubarb patch is of course larger than my entire garden. It reminds me of Rhubarb at grandma's growing up on our farm. The best part was (even though it was WORK!) hiking up the hill. The coolest "cow path" (in my terminology) that had been compacted and had some pea gravel packed in. Then as you ascended the hill, the railroad ties set into the dirt for steps. it was narrow but beautiful and the kids were thrilled. I got a good workout (good news, my ankle did well) and at the top of the hill was the actual "community" with the pretty houses and the gorgeous grapevines and more chickens, and the community/church building, and the playground that the kids were entertained with for the afternoon. The trip back down was necessary when the kids started to get tired, and Ardyn tripped in the gravel at the top of the hill and had a meltdown over a scraped knee. Then we got about 5 steps down the hill and Marek said "Hold me." and so I carried him down, which ended up being easier because he was having a hard time going down the steps without being on his hands and knees.

Then we had to take off and head to Wal-mart because we had been without milk for longer than any good mamma would actually disclose. When we GOT to walmart Marek started having a massive meltdown right away "I don't WANT to go to Wal-Mart" and then the read faced screaming crocodile streaming tears began. He wouldn't stand, wouldn't walk, and I was like oh boy, here we go. I tried explaining, but he was too tired to be explained to. I ended up grabbing the babyhawk, and strapping him in, giving him a sucker, and Ardyn and I walked through the outside garden center in an attempt to calm him. This did not work, and then of course every person on the planet who doesn't understand babywearing, or shopping with a 2 year old, looks at me like I am the crazy hippy mamma strapping her kid in when he just so OBVIOUSLY wants to walk. So I ignored all their stares and marched through the inside garden center and then into the store with him still screaming. Eventually I got him to eat the sucker. When the sucker was done, he was about passed out, and he did pass out COLD and slept through the entire rest of the store. Ardyn, on the other hand, was exceptionally well behaved and also very helpful, putting things (that I asked her to!) into the cart, and holding the bags for the produce that we picked out, and helping me to put things up on the conveyor at checkout. This was a bonus and she got *squinkies* at her request. I wasn't thrilled at first about having to BUY her something to get her to be good, but in the end, she had been SO good and made the trip so much more bearable, I would have bought her more than squinkies if I had to :)

Meagan

The Family Fork

Well, it's Saturday. It could be Thursday for all I know. I haven't left the house since MONDAY! Holy crap! Pretty much this week has been a little stressful. Not the entire week, but by the end of it.... It seemed like a huge long week. Ardyn is much fussier this week than the first two. Instead of almost never crying, she's having her fair share of fussy times. I have dealt with much worse babies, but much worse babies I could at least get away from. Of course now I get to feel that postpartum guilt that comes with wanting to get away but knowing that I can't get away and then feeling guilty that I could even think about getting away and its like a vicious cycle. I know that she's always happy when eating. I know that she's happy 39% of the time if you are holding her. And I know that if you put her down, she's happy 20% of the time. This week it became excessively harder to get dressed. It became excessively harder to eat a meal. It became excessively harder to pee. Only a mom can tell you what it's like to hold one a baby, trying to shush her, and peeing at the same time.

Yesterday and Today she seemed to have more meltdowns than usual. Last night my stomach was hurting me and I looked like the walking dead, and this was after a two hour nap from 4-6pm. The best part of my week was when my mom came over last night and helped. She held Ardyn while I took all the maternity clothes out of my closet and folded them. Then I fed her and mom hung up all of my regular clothes from out of totes. Then mom held her again while I hung all those clothes in the closet, and cleaned out the bottom of my closet, revealing three things that have been missing since 1991. Okay, not really, just since about 3-4 months into my pregnancy. Most important was the discovery of my pre-maternity underwear, neatly packed in ziplocs and in a large garbage bag. Second important was the finding of my FAVORITE maternity shirt, that went missing about 4 months into pregnancy never to be found again. And it was in a GYM BAG in the bottom of my closet. Yeah. What's up with that? As if I went to the gym while 4 months pregnant and accidentally left my shirt in there. What? So anyway. It's found and now I don't need it. Next time.

Mom also brought over supper last night, which was fabulous. She watched the baby and took her into a far away room while we ate supper (as she screamed every 3 minutes) and then we cleaned up our mess, washed mom's dishes, and unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher (FINALLY!)

I was sad to see mom go but it was time for us all to go to bed. Then of course when the baby finally fell asleep around midnight or 12:30, I couldn't sleep because I was so stretched thin, worn out, pissed off, and mentally unstable. I ended up curling up on the couch next to Evan and sobbing until I couldn't breathe. Nothing like that to freak out your husband. Ugh. And even though I know he doesn't completely understand... it still felt good to get it out. And good to let him know that sometimes I feel completely alone. Like someone grabbed my arm and drug me on a sinking ship and said "here you go... now you are captain! " and when I started to buck up and look around, I realized that the ship is sinking and there are no crew. Just helpless passengers all looking to me for their every need. I'm not saying I want to get off the ship (although it may cross my mind from time to time that at least 1 hour of time on land might help me get my bearings) But I am saying that I need at least one passenger to be like co-captain. One passenger to go back to where we were two weeks ago and take the initiative to be a decision maker. So eventually, around 1:30, I was able to lay down and try to sleep. Then we were up at 3:30, 4:30-5am, and then 7:30, 8:30, and 9:30 when we got up for the day and the meltdowns began again. I enjoy the hour or two, first thing in the morning, before she gets cranky. She eats, she smiles, she coos, she looks at me adoringly... and then the fun begins.

Today she had various meltdowns until 11am when she had her first "nothing will make me happy" meltdown while we tried to eat some brunch. Then after I fed her again and got her calmed down, she fell asleep, and we ALL fell asleep, for what seemed like an extremely short-lived nap, that probably lasted about an hour. She woke up in meltdown mode with gas, and that continued for another 2 hours, during which I was lucky enough to get a long bubble bath and shave... and Evan walked her and shushed her and tried to keep her calm. If the crying got to me I would just put my ears underwater and pretend that I was Meagan instead of mom. When the bath was over, I felt like a much more sane person. Just 45 minutes to not be the sole caretaker does wonders. But it's like a game of Hot Potato, she got tossed my way to feed her and then Evan disappeared. Luckily she was calm after eating, and lay on her pillow sucking a pacifier and swaddled to high hell (Happiest Baby on the Block you know?) while she watched me get dressed and dry my hair. She loves the hairdryer.

The one thing that has been keeping me motivated the past two days is the plan of going "out to supper" tonight. We invited my parents to grab BBQ uptown or go to Mineral to the Wagon Wheel. I was so excited to be going somewhere with someone... and then mom called this afternoon and dad isn't feeling well and they don't want to get the baby sick... so now we have no plans. Evan and I were going to go by ourselves but he is worried that the baby will have a meltdown while we try to eat, so once again I am doomed to the house while he takes off on his merry way. He tells me to "take Ardyn and go do something" and I take that as an invitation to deal with an "out in public meltdown" without his support. While that sounds like an entirely good time to me, I decided that I would be better off blogging and eating two pieces of marble cake with kick ass frosting that mom brought over. It has been in her freezer since the baby shower. Yum.

I considered (and really still am considering) taking Ardyn for a walk in the stroller but I don't look forward to the drama of putting her in her car seat, especially when she hasn't been in it since Monday... and the drama of a meltdown 5 or 10 blocks from home where all I can do is walk back the way I came while she screams her head off. Everywhere I look I see sinking ships. Now that's positive, isn't it?

On a side note, something I loved about growing up with my parents? Whenever there was cake... there was a fork in the pan. Yep. A community fork. Instead of dishing out the cake onto a plate, we would take the lid off the pan, remove the community fork, eat the piece or piece-and-a-half of cake that we wanted, and put the fork back for the next person. Instead of a clean cut mark between the pieces of the cake that were in the pan, it was a jagged little cut made by the tines of the family fork. Some folks may think that is germy and gross, but we loved it (well, dad and liz and I did, I don't know about mom.) That's how we did things. And in the spirit of that, I am totally leaving my fork in this cake container, for later.