Life With Two, No Three, No Two.

In case you’re wondering what this blog post is about, it is not about me announcing to the world that we’re having a third child.  What it is about is my trying to figure out how the heck people decide to have more kids.  As we are settling into life with two children, it feels busy.  When I take both kids somewhere to eat, I often wonder “how would I possibly manage this if I had a baby carrier in tow?”  As I am mopping up an entire drink that a child spilled on me, I think “who would hold the baby while I un-drench myself?”  Even when we’re at home, I sometimes feel like I am only loosely in control.  Just as Avery zigs, Claire often zags, which frequently leads to both of them getting into some type of trouble simultaneously.  I typically evaluate who’s doing the most harm and address that child.  Or yelling at Avery whilst diving for Claire often does the trick. 

When we decided to start trying for baby #2, it was not as difficult.  I was resolute that I did not want Avery to be an only child, and I wanted them to be close together in age, but not insanity-inducing close together.  We started trying as soon as I could possibly fathom being pregnant, having an infant, starting the entire process over again.  For us, that age was two, and Claire and Avery are exactly two-years and nine months apart.  My sticking points were that I did not want two children in diapers and I did not want two kids in cribs.  Even once I was pregnant with Claire, I had a hard time imagining how I would juggle both children because, at the time, Avery seemed little to me.

This time around, we are not ready to make a decision in the foreseeable future.  But yet we still discuss.  There have been points when we have felt like we definitely want more kids.  Those points typically have coincided with easy stages in Claire’s baby-dom.  Then, something usually happens to make life harder.  Ever since Claire has been walking, it’s been difficult for both of us to imagine adding another kid to the mix.  Well-played, Claire.

Which leads me to ask, HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS?  How do you decide?  Avery and Claire are perfection.  I cannot imagine not having them.  Part of me wonders if there’s another person that is supposed to be part of our family about whom I will feel the same way.  Another part of me hates to shake up a formula that is working (ish).  Yet there’s a tiny piece of me that feels wistful when one of my friends announces a pregnancy. 

Seriously, send me your checklists, your pros, your cons, your “are you crazy” talks.  I will put them in the baby-making decision vault for future consideration.

Claire And Kitty.

 

When Avery was a baby, I was desperate for her to have an attachment object.  Oh, you know, something she could cling to at night when she was in bed.  Perhaps something that would prevent her from sitting in bed awake calling my name?  She was just not that into it.  I would put stuffed animals in her bed and find them tossed on the floor in the morning.  Our little AJS has always known her own mind.  Basically, I was her attachment object.  And this attachment object was tired.  She did eventually settle on an attachment object, ahem, five attachment objects.  She now sleeps with five blankets, baby-sized, of course, which I think she took to around two years-old.  Isn’t that so like AJS?  I beg her to take an attachment object, and she gets me in the end by taking five.  Although she demands to sleep with those blankets, they’re not attachment objects in the true sense in that she has never toted them all around town.  This could, however, be a logistical issue, considering the extreme inconvenience of toting around five blankets. 

I hadn’t even really begun to think about an attachment object with Claire since she’s only really just recently been old enough to have things in her bed.  When Claire was about thirteen months, we wandered into the Disney store while out-of-town.  Yes, it’s like a gravitational pull.  If there’s a Disney store, we will find it.  Avery’s Merida obsession had just begun, and we were letting her pick out a Merida toy.  Jerrod pointed out that we never buy anything for Claire, so I put her down in front of a massive shelf of stuffed animals.  She walked directly up to a mound of white cats (for those of you more sophisticated Disney followers, it is Marie from Aristocats, a detail about which Claire has no knowledge), picked one up and started giggling, hugging it and showering it with kisses.  That white cat naturally came home with us, and thus, Kitty was born. 

Claire loves Kitty.  She sleeps with Kitty, er, or rather on Kitty.  Kitty always cheers her up, and she has a slight (and by “slight” I mean “violent”) meltdown if Avery touches Kitty.  If Kitty is on the floor, Claire saunters casually up and sits down on his head.  We assume it’s a display of affection.  When I’m trying to rock Claire before bed at night, she clamors to get into her bed because she knows Kitty is there.  Once reunited, I hear lots of smacking as she kisses him, and “hiiiiiiiiiiiii.”  And, no, I cannot explain why we have decided that a cat wearing a pink bow is a he. 

Recently, Claire was at the Disney store with Jerrod and his parents.  Claire’s Grandma wanted to buy her a present.  Jerrod set Claire down.  She walked directly to a shelf of Kitties, grabbed one Kitty under each arm, turned around and headed for the door  (see picture above).  Don’t worry – we have already purchased a backup Kitty in case of kitastrophe (it was there, I took it).  So there you have it.  My fifteen-month-old has found her one true love, and his name is Kitty.

 

Monday Confessional.

I feel like maybe I have done a terrible thing.  One thing I don’t like is mothers who act like they are perfect – perfectly behaved kids, perfectly clean house, perfectly prepared meals, perfectly managed work/family balance.  Perfect, perfect, perfect.  Cue nausea.  And, yes, I am aware that the reason I don’t like perfect mothers is because they make me feel inadequate.  But as I was waxing poetic about CCS in my last blog post, it dawned on me that perhaps I was projecting “perfect” to the world.  It’s so much easier to tell people about the happy stuff.  Don’t we all go out of our way to avoid whiners?  I personally block extra-whiney people from my facebook feed and unfollow them on twitter.  Plus, I, at least, want people to think I’m great.  On the other hand, I don’t think it is fair to other mothers to project perfect.  I have a handful of friends on the verge of motherhood and another handful considering motherhood.  I never want anyone to read my blog and feel inadequate.  So, here is my Monday confession.

First, I am not the perfect wife and mother.  I get snappy with my children (fine, and my husband), I order takeout instead of cooking, and I don’t do my children’s laundry until they are out of clean pajamas.  I have said things to Avery along the lines of  “can you please not say my name anymore?”  And, if you saw my house right now, you would think that I had given up cleaning for Lent, except I observe Lent year-round.

Second, I do not have perfectly behaved children.  As a threshold matter, my children are high-maintenance.  They are happy, they are sweet, but they are high-maintenance.  And, I have made them that way.  They both want my constant presence and attention.  I haven’t gone to the bathroom by myself in years.  In addition, Avery is a drama queen, crying because she is a princess without a castle.  Claire fake cries when I leave the room.  Avery negotiates with me over every decision and command I deliver, including how many more bites of dinner she has to eat.  

Third, I think being a mother is hard.  The blog frequently assumes a rose-tinged tone.  That is because I love my children more than anything.  That being said, I don’t often mention that I am emotionally drained at the end of day after tending to every whim of two, tiny girls.  I frequently neglect numerous aspects of my life.  Finding a time to exercise seems like it requires an act of Congress, and I try to squeeze my job into the hours when my children are sleeping.  I have friends who are waiting for a call-back from a phone message left in 2008.  I pour myself into other people and sometimes wonder who is looking after me?

My basic point is that my life, like everyone’s life, has its ups and downs.  Although the point of this particular blog post is to highlight the downsides, for the sake of motherhood, I must tell you that, even on my most exhausting day, I forget about every bad thing when I watch Avery and Claire giggle and hide in my closet.  The angst I feel over Avery having thrown what I like to call a “kicky fit” over not getting her way is erased with a sticky kiss from a four-year-old with fruit snack breath.  Even after Claire has been whiney all day, I feel content as I give her a bottle and inhale her baby smell.  When I reflect upon the days, weeks, months, years I’ve had with these girls, I have to strain to remember the things they’ve done to make me mad, and the source of particular stresses is hard to remember.  But I can spout off five things Avery has done to make me laugh just today in sixty seconds, and Claire keeps my heart in a constant state of mushy.  Motherhood is a mixed bag, but for me all the imperfections seem to fade away.

Sweet CCS.

I may have mentioned this before, but have I told you lately that this girl is one of the lights of my life?  Such a perfect, chubby little nugget.  I wish I could freeze in my memory the way this age feels forever.  I am going to miss the days of squeals of laughter, baby smell, and how squishy she feels when I squeeze her.  She already feels so much less squishy than she used to.  Is there anything better than having a tired baby rest her curly head on your shoulder?  Or what about the hundreds of baby kisses she bestows on everyone and everything in our house?  Me, Jerrod, Avery, the dogs, her stuffed animals, pictures of animals in her books, Avery’s blankets, etc. and etc. to infinity.  And nothing makes my heart feel as smushy with emotion as hearing her kissing her Kitty (more on this later) via the baby monitor while she’s in bed at night.  Our tiny CCS is merely a wiggly ball of sugar and busy-ness these days.  She eats, she plays, she reads, she runs, she kisses, she sleeps.  Repeat.    In summary, dear Claire, I love you.

And Then There Was AJS.

It is hard to believe we haven’t always had an AJS in our lives.  As our baby turns 4 today, I reflect upon what life would be like without her.  Who would remind me not to pick my nose?  Fortunately for me, I don’t have to fathom a world without AJS and instead, can look back upon the day that we met Avery.

3 years and 364 days ago, my eyes shot open at exactly 6:00 a.m. as I felt contractions begin.  My first thought was “well, it’s about time” since my due date had already flown past.  How like Avery to keep me waiting.  I waited a few hours before mentioning anything to Jerrod because, as a first time mom, I was afraid that they weren’t real contractions.  I fessed up a shortly before lunch time and then spent all day googling “false labor” and praying that this was it.  After a day full of mild contractions, I was not close enough to call my doctor.  Right as I was crawling into bed, the mild pangs turned painful, and I sat up all night watching movies, cleaning out my email inbox and trying to wrap my head around what the next day would hold, all the while Jerrod slept peacefully, blissfully unaware that I was wide awake.  The next morning, still afraid that it was too soon to go to the hospital, we took a walk around the block and finally headed to the hospital.  In the car, I turned to Jerrod and said “so are we naming this kid Avery Jane?”  We had struggled to come up with girl names and had never reached a final consensus.  After being observed for a tense hour at the hospital, they confirmed that I was in labor and admitted me. 

What transpired over the next 6 hours was uneventful.  I felt a strange sense of calm as I sat on the hospital bed and waited to meet our daughter.  We chatted with the labor nurse and anesthesiologist as if casually killing time at a cocktail party, and suddenly, it was time.  After a tense one-hour of pushing, a little after 4:00 p.m., the room flooded with people (seriously, who were all those people?), and an angry cry pierced through the quiet hubbub of the room.  Jerrod handed me our daughter, and every thought that was typically in my head fell out.  There was no room in my mind for billable hours and briefs, dirty dishes and grocery lists.  Avery Jane had arrived, and in true Avery style, she was occupying the space.  My head, my heart, my arms were full of Avery.  I held in my arms a 6 pound, 12 ounces AJS who was so red, so wrinkled and so indignant, and I had never seen a more perfect human.

Four years later, I feel the exact same way.  Avery still occupies the space (in every way – there are princess toys everywhere!).  She is a juxtaposition of strong and soft – quite willful at times and then touchingly tender moments later.  I see in her traces of myself, traces of Jerrod, and most dominantly, her own uniquely crafted AJS-ness.  Avery, we are proud of you everyday.  Thank you for 4 years of you.

Happy Weekend!

We wish you a fun-filled weekend that is

happy . . . .

and maybe a little bit crazy!

Transition To Toddler-Dom.

Over the past few months, Claire has exploded on to the scene in a big way.  We have transitioned from crawling around the house (although it was a speedy crawl) and poking around here and there to running from room to room and exploring every nook and cranny.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t sit down all day, except when Claire is sleeping.  In addition to the running around the house transition, our little miss has also found her voice.  Claire had an epiphany – not a very poetic epiphany – but an epiphany nonetheless: if I cry, they will come.  And thus we have had to start disciplining our tiniest one.  I loved those baby days before I had to utter the word “no” to my little darling, but those days are gone.  They have been replaced by days chock-full of removing chubby hands from forbidden objects, removing a chubby body from the fireplace, and holding chubby cheeks in my hands to discourage fake crying.  She is still sweet.  I receive many sticky, baby kisses throughout the day, although sometimes I suspect she is just trying to give me positive reinforcement for doing what she wants me to do.  To summarize, Claire has discovered her own power.  In case you’re keeping score, that leaves me with two children who want to be the boss.  I suspect that if more children follow that they will be very meek because all the bossy genes have already been distributed.  So if you see me out and about and I look tired, it’s because I have walked five miles around my own home, chasing my baby.  If I look makeup-less, it’s because said baby tossed my makeup brushes in the toilet.  And if I look pained, it’s because I’m recovering from a vicious shoulder-bite, inflicted upon me by an enraged baby.  But one thing I won’t look is unhappy because, even on her most difficult day, Claire is a blessing.

Tales From The Petting Zoo.

You would think that I would know my children better than anyone, considering that I have been there for almost every second of their lives.  But each day, they find ways to show me how constantly they are changing and evolving.  Case in point, one AJS, this weekend.  We took her to an event that had a petting zoo and horse-rides.  As we were making our way over to the petting zoo to tell the baby chicks “goodbye”, Avery insisted that she wanted to ride on one of the horses.  She is not historically a brave child.  It took her about a year to warm up to going down the slide at the park by herself.  A mere year and a half ago, she adamantly refused a miniature pony ride.  Armed with this knowledge, I was 90% sure that Avery would not be riding a horse that day.  Willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, we waited in line.  As we approached the front of the line, I couldn’t help but notice that those horses were the real deal.  They were big.  Their backs were level with my head.  I gave her a boost, and she was off.  I was barely able to snap a picture because I was so surprised.  Not only did she do it, but she was very nonchalant about the whole affair, breezy even.

So there you have it.  Most of the time, it seems like our children change in gradual, measurable ways.  Before they walk, they skim around the coffee table, take a step or two here and there, throwing up signals everywhere that change is coming.  And then there are the changes we don’t see coming at all that brew deep within our children and erupt unexpectedly.  At a petting zoo. 

A few more scenes from the petting zoo.  She was very excited to meet this cow, as his name is Andy, which Avery pointed out to his handler is the name of Zoomie and Other Granddad’s dog.  Yes, Avery calls her great-grandfather, “Other Granddad.”  She was able to take time out from the animals for a ride on the tractor-pull.  Wind in her hair.  She’s very in the moment.

The petting zoo also resulted in a change in aspirations for our dear AJS.  She has consistently said she wants to be a mommy when she grows up (she knows where her bread is buttered) and occasionally has said she wants to be a tennis player.  For the sake of full disclosure, I must admit that her desire to be a mommy is at least in part motivated by her desire to be the boss of Claire.  She seems to think Claire will still be a baby when Avery is grown up.  At the petting zoo, she wanted to hold a baby chick, and Jerrod told her she couldn’t – only the girls in charge of the chicks could hold them.  Now, resultant, she has told me she no longer wants to be a mommy when she grows up but would like to be a “chick charger” which apparently is the title for those in charge of chicks.  Fine by me.  I’m guessing “chick charger” school is very affordable.

Things were a little less exciting for the diaper set.  But she managed to enjoy herself, and lots of animals received “pa-pas” from Claire.

Silver Linings Abound.

I must admit that, in life, there are many situations in which it is difficult to see the upside.  Some situations are grave enough that it is hard to imagine what possibly positive could come.  And this brings me to something I love about children – they often force you to see the silver lining in day-to-day hardships.  I’m not trying to Pollyanna out on you here, but my children force me to smile even through exasperation.  Never fear, I have illustrative anecdotes. 

Both of my kids have been wrestling with a bout of the sniffles.  Via AJS’ baby monitor a few nights ago, we heard prolonged coughing, whimpering and then, in an extremely weary tone, AJS said “this is not what I needed.”  Jerrod went up to check on her to find she had spit up a bit.  He said she was sitting on her bed looking dead on the inside.  But, surprisingly, the source of her angst was not the sickness.  As he walked in, she said “I am all dirty, and princesses do not get dirty.”  Even in times of sickness, she must maintain her princess street cred.  Leave it to Avery to make us laugh, even in the midst of nighttime puke detail.

Same virus, different child, fast forward one night.  Last night, Claire was up crying with a congested nose.  After extensive de-boogering and medicating, I was rocking her to sleep.  Within minutes, she was nodding off in my arms, which is a very un-Claire thing to do.  As I held her and listened to her stuffy breathing, I started trying to remember when I last held a sleeping Claire.  At 14 months, she rarely falls asleep in my arms, and I quit rocking her to sleep when she was around 6 months-old.  The last time was in May, we had just moved into our current house, and Claire woke up, upset by her unfamiliar surroundings.  I held her on my bed for hours.  It makes me wonder how many months will pass until the next time I can hold my sleeping baby.  How I longed for my babies to sleep through the night during those early infant months.  But now that they do, holding my sleeping baby makes me feel heart-achey, knowing that she is slowly phasing me out.  So although I do not ever want Claire to be sick, even during those sick, weepy nights, I still cherish the chance to cuddle groggy, sniffly Claire.

So, thank you, children, for providing me with an unexpected laugh and a late-night warming of the heart.  You even make the sniffles seem funny and sweet.

What We Like About Jo.

Dear Mom,

Do you remember that one day that I needed cheering up and you were ready for the task?  Fine, it wasn’t one day, it’s basically been everyday that anything has ever bothered me my entire life, even the very trivial things.  You always know what to say.  So here I am today wearing my best “cheer up” face and armed with a few of the best weapons ever – stories and comments from the people who love you most in life, your family. 

Mom, here are just a few of the things we love about you, a tiny dose of our favorite memories with you, and things you do that make us smile.

From Lynn: You’re the only person I know whose dogs have a Sunday School class.

From Dad: The summer after we were married in 1972, we lived in the JcPenney mansion in Westport, Connecticut and later a pre-revolutionary cabin.  Jo’s beauty then is only surpassed by her beauty now.  One night during that summer, Jo made spaghetti, and we had my assistant, Pat Yahner (aka Wizard) over for dinner, who arrived slightly drunk.  He liked the food so much, he licked his plate clean.  This was the beginning of Jo’s progression as a gourmet cook.  That same summer I went to New York City, and Jo and Danny Davis went with me.  Danny, aka Goo-Goo, had been my roommate the year before.  He randomly walked up to people on the street “How are y’all doing?  I’m from Texas.”  People from there thought he was crazy.

From Jave:  I have fond memories of Jo’s ability to catch squirrels in her yard. Also she is an excellent cook and makes great Turkey soup after Thanksgiving.

From Carol: When I was just out of graduate school, Zoomie, Dad, Jo and I took a fabulous trip to Hong Kong and Bangkok.  Jo and I shared a room and I remember we were so jet lagged that we would wake up at three or four in the morning and chat because we couldn’t sleep.  I remember going on the Star Ferry from Hong Kong to Kowloon, lots of shopping and eating pizza at the Shakeys in Hong Kong THREE times.  I remember being on a hot, crowded, car jammed street in Bangkok while Zoomie was looking a shoes being sold on the sidewalk, when around the corner came a guy riding an elephant trailed by a baby elephant holding onto his mama’s tail!  That trip is one of my favorite experiences that Jo and I have shared.

From me: You’re so creative, mom, and you made my childhood so unique and sparkley.  One of my favorite childhood possessions was the jean jacket and matching jean skirt that you glitter-painted, sequined, and rhinestoned within an inch of its life.  It was glimmer-y perfection.  Do you remember how I wore that jacket, emblazoned with sequined state-of-Texas, cactus, and cowboy paraphernalia decals all over Italy?  I wish I still had that coat.  In many ways, it was like a slice of you – perfectly unique and sparkled like a jewel.

From Erin: I cannot pick one favorite memory of Mom. There is a lifetime of memories integrated into my soul. So if I had to narrow it down, I cannot escape memories of being in bed with her watching television. Enter Dad, who says without fail, “Will you girls ever be too old to get in bed with your Mom?” The answer is clear – we will obviously never be too old to get in bed with Mom! We love you, Mom, and our prayers are with you.

From Tom: Jola sends the best puzzle books! I also like watching television with her. I really like my birthday parties at her house.

From Christi: Jo welcomed me to the family with open arms. She took me out to lunch every week after bible study and made my transition to Amarillo a lot smoother by always being supportive and generous. I admire her ability to make beautiful things and most of all, her dedication to family and faith. We are truly blessed to have her as an aunt.

From me: We all have our happy places.  One of my most soothing childhood memories is laying my head in your lap during church and you would rub my head.  I try to replicate this maneuver with Avery, and she always says “stop messing up my hair, mom.”

From Jerrod: Jamie is a great woman and a great mom to our two precious girls because of Jo. Whether it’s giving Jamie advice or merely setting an example, Jo has helped guide Jamie into the person she is today… loving, confident, intelligent, and fun-loving. When Jamie has had a long or tough day, she is always better after she’s talked to Jo. Their bond is special and unique and irreplaceable.

From Jennifer: I absolutely loved a glass jar that Jo had decorated with beads and gold-leafing.  I inquired as to how she made it, received instructions & attempted to make own.  My project didn’t turn out nearly as artistic as hers.  The next time I was at the Mozola’s, I asked Jo if she had any advice on how to improve my failed project to look more like hers.  She politely opened a cabinet where she had another bejeweled jar stored, and said, “Why don’t you just have this one?”  To this day, I love the beautiful glass jar she gave me, and have never successfully replicated one of my own.  (A note from me, I love this story because it is so very mom.  It seems like she has craft project dripping from her pores.)

From Sloan: My fun memory is several years back just before your mother renovated the PDC place.  Everyone was over for Sunday lunch, and as everyone is eating lunch, we seem to realize that we are not alone and take notice of the baby raccoons that happen to be living in the fireplace of the living room as we dine.  She had so much fun watching the dogs curiously creeping over to the fireplace screen only to retreat again while barking bloody murder.  Jennifer’s mother happened to show up late (in typical Smithee fashion) and almost had a panic attack knowing that there were critters eating among us – but not Zoomie, granddad and the Mozola family – everything proceeded as usual.

From me: Mom, I love it that 99% of the time you have a piece of glitter on your nose.  This won’t make sense to many people, but to those who know you best, it makes perfect sense.

From Avery Jane: My favorite thing to do with Jola is read books with her, and I like it when she takes me to the park.  I love Jola more than anyone.

From Claire: Pa-pa (pat, pat).  Smack (her kissy noise).  Hi-ya.

Mom, these are such happy, light-hearted memories, and I know you need a dose of happy and light-hearted right now.  I was talking to Zoomie recently and reminiscing about all the good memories we have together, and she said “and we have so many more good times ahead of us.”  I think that is the best message of them all.  We love you.

Love,

Your Family