Childhood

Me- "Dylan, are you enjoying your childhood? Is there anything you think is missing?"
Dylan- "well, I would like a blow up pumpkin in our yard"
Me- "Is that what you feel is missing?"
Dylan- "well, it would make it better."

Mirror, Mirror

Dylan: "There is only one of everyone, right?"

Me: "Yes Dylan, there is only one Mommy, one Daddy, one Dylan, and one Addison."

Dylan: "Yeah. There is.... Unless you look in the mirror!"

Deep in Thought

(Stealing this quote from a friend of mine's blog)

In the work force, there are many days when people oppose you all day long.

As a mommy, there are many days when little people oppose you all day long. . . And then they poop on you.

Potato Babies

Ryan and I have long called those babies that sit quietly in church, at a restaurant, in the car... potato babies. When Dylan was little, we used to envy our friends with all their 'potato babies' and wonder what we were doing wrong to have such a fussy baby that just never really seemed content. We didn't go out to eat for about 6 months because we invariably had to walk out with a screaming baby. And when we went anywhere in the car we heard crying the entire time without a break. Don't even get me started about that car trip we did out in DC...

Dylan has always been high maintenance. And that's ok. It really is. But we were a little scared (to be honest) this time around, knowing what we may be in for... with two kids.

But now we have a potato of our own. And we love it.

As long as she has a clean diaper and is fed and not gassy, she's perfectly content to just be held. She coos and babbles at us and smiles.

Our very own potato baby!

Our kid needs a yard!

He loves playing outdoors.
He loves grass, water play, and running.
We can't deny it. This kid needs a yard!
So we promise ourselves (and Dylan) that the next place we live WILL have one.
He also asked once for a dog, but that's NOT happening anytime soon.

Happy Birthday Dylan!

Today Dylan is THREE.

How do I put my feelings/thoughts into words? While Baby Addie sleeps, I'll do my best...

My baby boy is growing up. In a good way, but yet my heart aches. I know it's because of the changes that have occured this past week. It's a combination of my desire to have things as they were before, being the person who is teaching him, playing with him, and singing him to sleep at night - and feeling the changes all around us, transitioning our family from one of three to four now that our sweet baby girl has arrived.

He's growing up. He put on his clothes this morning nearly by himself as I sat and nursed his newborn sister, amazed how much he can do on his own when I can't help him. It seems he has discovered imaginative play overnight, building 'caves' with his toys and airports to Mexico in the kitchen. He sits in a regular chair now at the dinner table and we've put away his booster seat. He doesn't wear a bib anymore.

He's growing up. He's a great big brother, asking how 'baby Addie' is and wanting to help bathe her, dress her, change her, feed her. Loving her. Wanting to keep her 'cozy and safe' whenever he's around her.

But he's still my baby boy. Last night I went into his room after we was already asleep and uncovered his sweaty head from his covers, pulled him into my arms and rocked him. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about how fast he's growing up, how fast he's becoming more independent. I leaned in close and breathed in the sweet smell of shampoo in his hair and kissed his soft neck and face. I thought about how much his world has changed in the past 6 days, how much our family has changed. And at the same moment in time, I was happy and sad and scared and falling in love all over again with my son.

He's still my baby boy. He hugged me and kissed me at preschool as I dropped him off, looking at me from the back seat as we drove there, talking about which 'friends' he'd see today at school.

And tonight when we celebrate his third birthday with ice-cream-cake and pizza, I know my heart will be happy, knowing that he'll always be my son... regardless of his age. And for now I'm going to soak in this time, tantrums and all, because it's only for a season and I love this season of my life!

How old am I?

Putting birthdays on our 2008 calendar the other day was momentous. Why you ask? Because I had to put the number '30' next to my name this year. The end of my 20's? Already?!?

And then this week a co-worker pointed out that perhaps I'm really much older than 30 when she discovered that my iPod music of choice on the way to work was a selection of Enya, good 'ol Cat Stevens, the Mamas and the Papas, and John Denver.

And she didn't even know about the Everly Brothers I have on there...

Dreaming a little dream

Ever wonder what our dreams really mean?
I mean, I wake up nearly every morning and try to figure out what my dream from the night before meant. Often the dreams are similarly themed: past choices, fears of the future and loss of loved ones, work...
But should I spend every morning pondering the meaning of what seems to be my mind sorting through it's deeper thoughts whilst I slumber each night?
Some people don't remember their dreams. Take Ryan. He wakes up each morning seemingly rested, not worrying about the jumbled storylines from the night before. I, on the other hand, toss and turn each morning, with rising worry. Why is this?
I prefer to wake up and not remember my dreams. On those days, I pretend that my mind had succeeded at sorting through all those subliminal worries and put them to rest, without bothering me in the process.
Those mornings are rare and treasured for me, like getting money back on your taxes.