Battle of the why

Somewhere along the line, my incredibly smart toddler learned to ask why. And not just asking why for the sake of annoyance, but generally wants to know the ins and outs of all things. I'm surprised he hasn't asked why shit is brown. Because going into that kind of detail with a not-even-three-year-old is kind of an arduous process.

Why is my belly hurting? Why can't I sit on the couch and play with my pee pee? Why are you happy, Mommy? Why do I have to take a bath? Why do I have poopy crumbs on my butt?

Its like out of nowhere that the Land of the Why's have invaded our house. I definitely wasn't expecting this phase for at least another year. Not that someone handed me a parenting timeline. Because if they did, they'd be up shits creek with a paddle up their ass because the 'standard' sleep through the night age is like 6 months. Yeah. Turns out that's not always true.

We are making some big time progress in the house with manners, listening comprehension, pooping in the potty, and even managed to start going sans pull ups overnight. A few accidents here and there, but every day is a step in the right direction.  He's incredibly compassionate and affectionate. Thank God because I couldn't handle it if he refused smooches.

He's turning into a little boy before my eyes. And my heart can barely handle it. He says he wants to get big big to the sky, mommy and then I tell him that it makes mommy sad he's growing so fast. He'll then offer up a hug and kiss and just melts me into a pile of mush. 

He's one rad dude. No wonder my uterus is hurting a little. My how easily we forget how fucking difficult the hard times are.  But, despite any and all complaints about the process of raising semi-humans, it is truly all worth it. That kid rocks my socks.

(don't worry, snarky Kristen will return soon. I know mush isn't what you come here for, but today it's what you get).

Kristen said what???

Maybe it's because Smith is finally starting to resemble a really awesome dude lately, but admittedly, this one and done chick has been starting to think that maybe, just maybe, a second baby isn't such a bad idea. I can hardly believe I am even typing those words. But I kind of feel like I'm at a crossroads and need to make some official decisions relatively soon.

I will be *gasp* 34 in November. Not ancient, but certainly not a young twenty something with a uterus prime for inhabitation.  I think it's kind of do or die within the next year. 

Kent and I talked about it on our date night on Friday. We aren't 100% convinced that the doors are shut on this whole 2nd baby thing. But we aren't 100% on board with starting all over again either. I guess you could say that the door is cracked. A little. Just enough to let some light in and keep the monsters away, but not wide open like Farrah's asshole. 

I have made a decision to remove my Mirena for a variety of reasons. I am 10,000% convinced that part of my attitude problem (yeah) and rollercoaster of emotions on the day to day is mostly to blame on that thing. And the fact that I don't wear stress well. But regardless, the shit is coming out. And before that happens, we need to decide on the direction we want to go. If I go back on the pill, I am essentially ruling out the possibility of ever having another child. It took us soooo long to get pregnant after going off the pill and I don't want to put myself through that drama again. But if the Mirena is removed and we decide we MAY want to go down that sleepless road again, I won't go back on anything at all. Time isn't really on our side these days.

Who knows where this will take us. Maybe a pregnancy announcement in 6 months? Maybe endless boxes of wine in our future too. We'll just have to wait and see.

How's that for a little shock to your system on a Monday morning?

Atlantis

My work sponsored a 'reconnaissance' mission to Atlantis, Paradise Island. A research trip for the few of us in our studio that haven't been to the resort. 

My company was involved in the master planning and landscape architectural services and I got a fantastic opportunity to ride on the coattails of the designers and spend my Mother's Day walking around the property taking site photos and surveying the design drinking Kalik and Rum with a side of strawberry daqueri.

While it was nice to get away, the timing wasn't exactly poetic. I did get to spend a few short hours Mother's Day morning with my boys. But, work demanded my time. And I am terribly dedicated to my job, so sacrifices had to be made.

Just a few of the 450+ photos we took while on site. 

 

Mother's Day

Oh the pressure. Mother's Day is a bitch.

Kent is always awesome at gift giving.  In fact, we both are. We go above and beyond and bordering on ridiculous for life's big events.  Except for that time that I birthed his child. And he bought be a book. And a wallet. Which is kind of weird from an outsiders perspective, but for me, it was perfect at the time. Impending c-section bills and owning our first home at the time and we barely had two pennies to rub together to get a spark.

Birthday's are always awesome (memba that time he got me a DSLR camera)? Christmas is even better. So, Mother's Day I'm sure will be something amazing. Last year I got a spa gift certificate. And do you know where that gift certificate is? Still in my fucking wallet. A year later. Why? Because I can't seem to locate one hour of free time in my weekends. And quite honestly, the time that I do have, I want to spend with the boys. Even if they are shitting their underwear for the 10th time that week or needing their ass wiped (I'll let you guess which is which).

I got to thinking about what I really want for Mother's Day this year. And you know what that is? A cheese and fruit blintz from The Original Pancake House; a hand made card using some kind of extremity of my son (preferably hands or feet because scrubbing blue paint off toddler balls would be weird); and a free pass to sleep until 11am.

I don't ask for much. And I'm sure most mother's would probably agree. We just want to be appreciated. And who gives a rats testicles about material shit.

But just in case some asstard has a head full of bad ideas... here are some things to avoid for Mother's Day (read: if you're my husband, don't do these)... 

Bath Salts. Unless we're talking the good hard drugs that let you escape the reality of green poops on account of over-iced cupcakes and grants you a chance to gnaw on some Ryan Reynolds inner thighs, don't go for anything bath related. When was the last time you knew of a mom (that mom would be me) who had time to take 30 minutes and sit in a tub while leaving a child and husband unattended? Do you know what happens when you do that? A whole lot of stress covered in linguini noodles, wiener cheese, and playdoh.   

A Cleaning Product: Any cleaning product. Because I don't need a reminder that I am the only one who knows how to scrub a toilet or start a load of wash. But if you do insist on cleaning products, just make sure they don't have a cylindrical tool attached that can be promptly shoved up your ass. Just watching out for your chocolate starfish, my friends.

Candles: Nothing spells last minute and I don't know what to get you, but I want to look romantic and awesome just in case you will give me a Mother's Day blow job later more than candles.

Flowers from some overpriced big box online store where you spent my boxed wine money our grocery money: Save your pennies. Take a walk with the kids and pick some wildflowers. Besides, it gives us moms 10 minutes where we can poop in peace without a toddler wanting to see every nook and cranny of our bowl movement in the toilet.

Just trying to help a brotha out, dolls. I am available for anonymous email contacts to your husbands to send them in the right direction. Just sayin.

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