The One Where I Have One Of Those Days

Today is a grumpy day. It's a cold, windy, gray, drizzly day. It's a if-I-don't-get-a-nap-today-I-am-going-to-rip-somebody's-head-off day.

But it's still a GOOD day. Settle in and let me tell you my story...

I set myself up for it, really. I made a pitcher of tea yesterday afternoon - fully caffeinated tea, the good stuff. We're doing a Whole30 which means no sugar or dairy (among other things) for 30 days and I just can't quite make myself drink black coffee, so tea is the elixir of life around here currently. Now, making the tea wasn't a problem - but drinking it at 4pm most certainly was. I was wide awake until well after midnight.

Then the baby, sensing my weakness, made his move. Awake and wanting to nurse all through the night, every hour on the hour. The cherry on the top of this insomnia sundae came at 7am, just before the Hubs' alarm clock went off - when he bit me. (The baby, not Hubs.) Not a gentle love bite, either - a full-on, I'm-going-to-get-my-money's-worth-out-of-these-new-teeth bite.

That's it, kid. 24-hour milk bar is currently closed for maintenance. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

Ever felt a baby's new teeth? Little razor blades in a deceptively cute, chubby-cheeked package. Prisoners should start smuggling teething children into prisons instead of files baked into banana bread. This kid could gnaw through iron bars in a matter of minutes, and then create a diversion by pooping through his diaper onto the guard's lap.

Then of course, because it was earlier than I wanted to get out of bed, EVERYBODY was wide awake and needy. I think I could handle mornings a lot better if everyone could just defer their needs until 11am or so. But no - I have to scrub the sleep out of my dry eyes and immediately start changing diapers, finding clothes, changing peed-on sheets, fixing breakfast. Times THREE. By the time I finish fixing breakfast for everyone else, the baby is ready to nurse again. So he gets Second Breakfast, then I get mine. All of this is par for the course, no big deal on a normal day - but today I have maybe 3 cumulative hours of sleep, snatched in half-hour increments. Grumble grumble.

We're running low on the things I can eat on a Whole30, but of course there is plenty of chocolate milk and cheddar cheese and all the things I want but can't have. Jack is in an argumentative mood ("Mama, I want go outside!" We can't, it's raining. "No it's NOT!" Grrrr.) and Wesley is being a pest, poking and snatching and generally being a little brother. James wants to be held, fed, or entertained. I just want a gosh-durned donut. Maybe we can go to the Y for an hour or two and somebody else can watch these monsters sweet children while I at least shower in peace. Oh wait - nope. Hubs' truck isn't running well, so he took my car to work today. I'm trapped in here, in a prison that smells like poopy diapers.

So I did what mommies always do. I took care of all the needs, yelled a little bit at the annoying behavior (I'm not perfect, after all), set up the train table in a new and ultra-cool configuration, and stuck the most sensitive portion of my body back into the little piranha's mouth.

And then I took a couple of deep breaths, prayed for patience, ate an entire can of pineapple tidbits, and started to realize that, after all, my day isn't going that badly.

I didn't have to take anyone to the Emergency Room. I didn't have to get up early and leave my sleeping babies to go to work in a factory. We are in our own warm, dry home today, not in a homeless shelter. I have hot running water, and even though I may not get a chance to shower in it right now, I have a loving husband who comes home from a paying job at lunchtime and will watch the kids so I can shower then. We have lots of fun toys, paints, coloring books, and a train table to keep the kids busy - and when all else fails, Netflix to the rescue!

I'm sure not in a position to offer parenting advice (unless it's "stop before you're drowning in babies") but when has that ever stopped me from offering unsolicited advice before? So here it is - step back and breathe. When it's getting to be TOO MUCH and the noise pollution and the smell from the trash can and the constant poking and the demands just don't stop - step back, take a deep breath, and really LOOK at what is going on. Realize that a lot of the little annoyances are possible because of the greater blessings - what a great thing to have a warm dry house to be stuck inside while it rains! And then?

Just keep on truckin', Mama.

The One Where I See The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

In case you don't know my family in real life, we have lots of babies. It feels that way, anyway.

Actually, technically at the moment we only have one baby, 6-month-old James. Wesley is just over a year and a half old and Jack will be three in a few weeks - both solidly in toddler territory. If you don't feel like doing the math, that means when Jack was 6 months old, I got pregnant with Wesley - and when Wesley was 5 months old, I got pregnant with James. Oy. Just saying it makes me feel like the parental equivalent of a crazy cat lady. I have been either pregnant or carrying a newborn around for the past three and a half years. Homestar Runner fans, my married life has been a Wave O' Babies.

I love my babies - but some days they seem to multiply until they fill every corner of my house and every bit of available airspace. Some days, I feel like I haven't slept through the night in years - and truthfully, there have been more interrupted nights than not, since this ride on the Wave O' Babies started. Some days, I wonder if I will ever be able to go out in public without holding one child in a carrier, another on my hip, and snatching at the back of the third one who is constantly running away (Jack, I'm looking at you, kid.).

Some days, I'm drowning in babies.

But today. Today, we got up, had breakfast, and headed to Heaven On Earth - or in layman's terms, the Polar Express exhibit at our local museum. Trains, a bouncy house, trains, cookies, TRAINS... you get the idea. I was steeling myself for meltdowns and escape attempts, tears and attention-drawing screams. If you've ever had toddlers, you know that the "exit tantrum" is directly proportional to the attraction level of the exhibit, whether that be a playdate, a dusty sucker, or an amazing, toddler-delirium-inducing train set. But, how is a child going to learn how to behave in public if you never allow them the opportunity to misbehave in public? In other words, unfortunately you have to allow yourself to become a public spectacle a few (or many) times in order to let the kid learn what IS expected of them out in public. We have had lots of practice being a public spectacle, unfortunately - but still, bread and milk must occasionally be purchased without the aid of a babysitter.

So needless to say, I was braced for at least one epic meltdown when it was time to leave the train exhibit. But the "big" boys ("big" being a relative term here) both behaved themselves admirably - walked calmly while holding our hands, drank in the electric trainsets, talked shop with the adult train enthusiasts who were operating them (you haven't seen cute until you've seen a 2-year-old seriously discussing the difference between steam and diesel locomotives with an adult wearing a conductor's hat), jumped in the bouncy house, and played with the museum's "hands-on" wooden train set. The baby even behaved himself, smiling and flirting with every female in the building and nursing quietly in a corner without squealing or otherwise drawing attention to or exposing my milk-producing appendages. We met their cousins (also boys but a couple years older, and in my boys' opinions, the COOLEST COUSINS EVER) and all five boys played together with the trains, ate popcorn (not the baby, duh), and basically just bro'd out. It was so cute to see them wandering around together, the bigger boys keeping the littler boys near them and teaching them not to eat popcorn off the floor.

And when it was time to leave, it only took a chicken-nugget bribe to achieve a semicontrolled egress with a minimum of screaming - there were a few tears but I don't think anyone else really noticed. It suddenly hit me that my babies are becoming little boys, with the ability to put on their own shoes, speak in complete sentences (Wesley is still working on that but he and Jack are able to have some super-cute little conversations now), and eat with a fork (again, still achieving full independence but we are making progress). A day will come when I can take my children out in public without buckling a single carseat strap, wipe a single nose, or sweep a tantruming monster toddler quickly out the door while trying to avoid property damage. Eventually, one day, they will be able to cross the street all by themselves. They will not need me to cut up their hot dogs for them, fill their cups with milk, or tuck them into bed. They will grow into independent men who can capably handle anything life throws at them, and I will no longer be immediately recognizable as a "mommy" when I go out in public. There are days when I long for that independence to come quickly, so that I can poop without interruption, sleep a full night, maybe even set a hot beverage on my coffee table without fear of burns, spills, and stains. But for now, a glimpse of the future is enough to keep me going when what I really want for Christmas is a couple of extra arms and energy to match that of my children. Because right now, they still want to climb into my lap. They still need goodnight kisses and hand-holding. They are still babies, and that will pass too quickly.

And in case you thought the entire day was a brilliant, rose-colored dream of well-behaved toddler success, just know that Jack threw an epic naptime standoff tantrum that more than made up for his good behavior at the museum. For now, Mommy is still needed. And that is just fine with me.

The One Where I Discover Nirvana In The Baking Aisle

It's no secret that I love peppermint. It's the best thing about our nasty, cold, wet, brown, drizzly North Carolina winters, next to eggnog. I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet (and I am restraining myself from decorating for Christmas until Black Friday, so calm yourselves) but I will start drinking eggnog and eating peppermint-flavored everything the very day it comes out in the stores. Which is, you know, August 31ish.

But this year. THIS YEAR, I discovered Andes Peppermint Crunch pieces. And I am fairly certain that my next trip to the store will involve loading up my cart with every. single. bag on the shelves at Walmart. (Don't judge, I live in a small town and we don't have any fancy stores.) Maybe 15 or 16 bags will last me until Valentine's Day...

I was looking for cookie recipes on Pinterest (where else? What do you mean, "cookbook"?) and I found this yummy-looking recipe for Oreo Peppermint Crunch Cookies. Of course, I had to check it out because, peppermint! Cookies! Crunch! Oreos! And in the ingredients list - Andes Peppermint Crunch pieces. I was dubious - could something THIS delicious-sounding actually exist, and more importantly, could I find it in our small-town Walmart? The fact that they are made by Andes was the icing on the cake. My mother can attest that the reason I loved Olive Garden so much as a kid was not because of the delicious Italian food - it was because they brought Andes mints with the check.

I went out that very night (with only one child in tow - practically a vacation!) and prowled the aisles at Wally World for this deliciousness... AND I FOUND IT. I don't know if y'all understand. I'll say it again, in all caps - A SPECIALTY INGREDIENT COULD BE FOUND WITHOUT DRIVING AN HOUR. Cue angels singing.

So of course - because I love peppermint... and I love cookies... and I love baking... and I love my Freezer Meal Club which is having a cookie swap next month... and I love YOU - I made them. I had only two assistants during the process, Jack being at school all morning (don't worry, he got some after he got home).

James made suggestions on lighting and photography.

And Wesley provided quality control of the ingredients and finished product. "Mama, coookieeeeeee!"

Again, the directions can be found here so I won't repeat them - but here was my process and delicious, delicious results.

It starts with a cake mix! You just can't get any simpler than that. Well, technically you could BUY cookies already made, but for homemade? Yep, simple. Melted butter, an egg, and half a block of cream cheese goes in with this. Why haven't I lost any baby weight yet? Oh, and some vanilla and peppermint extract for extra minty deliciousness.

Add these tiny morsels of heaven. The rest of this bag is not going to survive the afternoon, I'm afraid.

And these, also heavenly.

And these, all crunched up. Great stress reducer, crunching cookies to a pulp!

I used my Kitchenaid to mix everything up. Then it went in the fridge to chill for half an hour.

Now, I wanted to test this recipe to see if it was freezer-friendly since I plan to make these for my Freezer Meal Club in a few weeks. I had the bright idea to spray a mini-muffin pan with nonstick spray and press spoonfuls of cookie dough into each (hole? well? divot? muffin-nest?) because I lack one of those tiny ice-cream scooper things. Who scoops ice cream with a tablespoon-sized scoop, anyway? Psh.

I put the pan in the freezer to freeze (natch) while I baked a few from their refrigerated state. Let it be known - this was not a good idea. The mini-muffin pan, I mean. Those danged globs of cookie dough cemented themselves into my pan. CEMENTED, I tell you. I had to dig every. single. one. out with a spoon. The next batch of frozen doughballs went on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Don't be like me. Don't try to be all cute with the mini-muffin pan.

Judge ye not my well-seasoned baking stone. It has been tested in the fiery ovens, and found worthy of the title of "Nonstick". 

And then! Cookies!

They do look a wee bit underdone when you first pull them out, but no worries. They firm up as they cool.

These cookies fulfilled all expectations of yumminess.

Soft, gooey, with creamy bits of peppermint and chocolate... mmmm. Mine weren't "crunchy", per se, but I did pulverize my Oreo bits pretty small. They might have more crunch if you leave bigger cookie chunks in there.

Overall - success! The test batch that I baked from the frozen doughballs came out perfectly, too - I just added one extra minute to the baking time to compensate. I'll DEFINITELY be making these again... and I bet Santa would like them, too. Maybe he'll fill my stocking up with peppermint chips!

The One Where Jack Uses His Words

I thought Jack would never talk. At almost 2 years old, he had a vocabulary of roughly 5-6 words - everything else was a grunt or his multipurpose word, "oose". "Oose" started out as a stand-in for the words "cheese", "shoes", "juice", "horse", and "please". It then evolved to mean "whatever the heck I WANT it to mean, so there." All day long, this is what happened:

Jack: "Mama!"
Me: "What?"
Jack: "Oose!"
Me: "That's not a word, baby. What do you want?"
Jack: (pointing) "OOSE!!!"

Sigh.

He started speech therapy right after he turned 2, and now at almost 3, I'm happy to report that it is impossible to shut him up. The boy talks like a verbal version of a perpetual motion machine. It drives me crazy most of the time, but it has its advantages. For example, this morning while driving him to school. The boy LOVES school. In face, one of his first complete sentences was, "School bus! I go school!" We started him out at a church preschool going 3 days a week, but switched him to 5 days a week after the first month. Non-school days consisted of "Mama, I go school today?" x10292374.

"I go school, Mama?" 

I had only had one cup of coffee before leaving the house this morning, which translates to "don't talk to me yet, I'm not capable of forming coherent sandwiches." This doesn't deter Jack in the slightest, of course - but he talks so much that I'm not required to respond much anymore. This is what I had the pleasure of listening to on the way to school this morning.

"We going to school, Mama? Where Daddy go? Daddy go to work? Oh, yes - Daddy goed to work today. We see him after school. We going to Grandma's house? Oh! There Nana's house! We not go Nana's house. We going to school. MAMA! It's FOGGY outside! We not able see very well!" (I reassured him that I could see just fine.) "Oh, yes." (Wesley chimed in with "Oh, YEAH!" this being his latest favorite phrase. Back to Jack.)

 "Mama, I going take off my seatbelt. I want unbuckle the buckles." (No, Jack, you can't do that. The police will come fuss at us, it's the law and it's not safe to take it off.) "Oh! Yes, Mama." ("Oh, YEAH!") "I wear my seatbelt, den the police not come fuss at us. Mama, you wear your seatbelt so we be safe. Wesley, you wearing you seatbelt? Don't unbuckle it. Mama, our car going crash?" (I assume this was coming from the idea of "safety" since I was doing a dignified 40.) "We wear our seatbelts and be safe. Police come fuss at us if we crash?" (No, if we crash it would be an accident and they would come help us.) "Oh! Yes, Mama." ("Oh, YEAH!") "But they fuss at us if we not wear our seatbelts! Oh! Mama! You going catch that school bus? We follow it to school? I not ride school bus. Mama, I miss our house. I be sad, I miss our house. You and Wesley and baby James going back our house? I go back our house after school. Baby James likes taking me to school, he wants go to school. Wesley not like it." (This was probably an accurate observation since James was giggling to himself in his seat, but Wesley looks like the Angry Bluebird in the mornings.) "Mama, you come back and pick me up after school. Oh! There school! I all ready, go to school now. There Miss Amanda!! Hi, Miss Amanda! I need my backpack, Mama. Oh, there my backpack. I put it on."

Then he runs into the building without a backwards glance, just like every day since the very first day of school. All those words, and not even a "Bye, Mama!" when I leave. The ride back home was blessedly quiet, but much less interesting.

That boy drives me nuts sometimes, but I wouldn't trade his chatter for anything. Well, maybe that's not 100% true. Some days I might trade it for some more coffee.

The First One.

We'll get to the funny, cute, crafty, yummy stuff in a minute - but first! Let me take a selfie. 

(I'm the cute one. Just kidding, I'm the one on the right.)

I'm a 26-year-old, full-time stay-at-home mom of three crazy adorable (sometimes just crazy. Sometimes just adorable) little boys under the age of three. Yes, I'm insane. Yes, I know how "that" happens. No, we won't be "trying for a girl". Moving on. Here they are! 

Left to right: Wesley, me, Jack, James, and The Hubs.

In between changing diapers, filling sippy cups, and wiping noses, I scroll through Pinterest, attempt craft projects, drink coffee, and cook food. I have aspirations of homesteading and living in a tiny house (but not until these three hooligans are out of the house. I'm probably not quite THAT crazy). I have recently acquired six chickens and I'm learning how to keep them alive and productive - which is, incidentally, the most I can expect out of myself in a day, as well. I have an Etsy shop, Mini Toppers, in which I sell crocheted baby hats (shameless plug: find it here!). I read voraciously. I try to paint. I love Jesus and my church. I sing loudly in the car, which already embarrasses my children (none of whom are potty trained, so they can quit pointing fingers at me already.) I am frequently overwhelmed by the sheer amount of STUFF that accumulates under the couch in a given day - and am therefore seriously looking into minimalism and love threatening to THROW AWAY ALL THE TOYS.  Pretty sure I won't go that far, but it's fun to see the looks on their faces. 

I sometimes wish I could walk through the living room without someone grabbing me around the knees. I hide in the bathroom. I frequently get out of the shower only having shaved one leg. Sometimes I get a little closer to the mirror than normal and am shocked by the state of my unplucked eyebrows ("Babe! Why didn't you TELL me I had two caterpillars crawling across my face?!"). I am profoundly introverted. I have very few in-real-life friends because of this - thank goodness I wasn't born a boy, because I never would have gotten up the nerve to ask anyone out and would therefore have been doomed to a solitary life. Some days I announce to The Hubs that he's in charge and I drive to Panera with my Nook and sit all by myself in the corner booth for an hour or two, reading and eating orange scones. I have barely lost any baby weight and the baby is 6 months old. I recently dyed my hair pink after dithering about it throughout my entire last pregnancy, and I LOVE IT. 

And now that you know more about me than you EVER wanted to know, we are all set to be friends! I promise to put up lots of adorable-baby photos in between my Pinterest fails, recipes, suburban homesteading discoveries, and mommy-rants. Leave a comment to say hi and let me know you're "out there"!

P.S. Here is a list of things I yelled while typing this post: 

"Wesley! Don't step on the baby!" 

"James, get Wes' toes out of your mouth, they don't taste good." 

"Quit pushing buttons on the phone!" 

"Are you seriously pouring your chocolate milk out on the carpet?!"

"Don't put tissues back in the box after you wiped your nose on them!"

Ah, the glamorous life of a mommy.