InstaFriday: Kids, Kids, Kids...

About 8 years ago, Jeremy and I started trying to have a baby. It was a long process. Every 28 days, for two and a half years, I would find out that I wasn’t pregnant and then I would bawl my eyes out.

Every month, for two and a half years.

Then, one month, there were no tears. They were replaced with a positive pregnancy test and excitement and joy and shock and…

Fear.  

Now, I know I might sound to some like a walking contradiction but, even though I wanted to be pregnant and I wanted to have a baby, I didn’t really like kids all that much. After all the time and all the tears and all the trying, the thought of actually being someone’s mother scared the Bejeesus out of me. What if I was bad at it? What if I didn’t like my baby? What if what I wanted all this time turned out to be something I didn’t actually want at all? Then what was I going to do?

Crap.

Turns out, I did in fact love my baby, immediately and fierce, just like everyone said I would. Sometimes, I get worked up about stuff before it happens. I swear I’m working on it.

I got another bonus prize, though, when I had Logan. I also learned how to be a kid person. Now, I won’t lie to you and tell you that I love all kids or that I immediately became blessed with energy and patience and all of the other things that make kid people, kid people, but I did learn how to talk to them, how to read their signs and signals, how to play with them and like them and handle them. They don't intimidate me nearly as much as they used to (Except Brodie, but I'm working on that, too)

This is all very good news considering that my house is now ALWAYS full of kids. Mine. Other people’s. Kids. All the time.



This particular one is mine. This one was taken a couple of hours after I washed his mouth out with soap. You can read about that one here.



This is what Wednesdays look like around here. Talyn comes and hangs out and helps keep me sane.



This is my niece, Emma. Sometimes she gets sleepy. It happens.



and this is dinner time with my two, Emma and her sister Ally. I ate standing up by the counter. Guess it's time for a bigger table, huh?



On one of our walks. He would stay outside all of the time, if I would let him.



and cuddling together after the walk. I would sit and cuddle all of the time, if he would let me.



And this is the one I tried so long to have. By the way, not only do I like him, he was TOTALLY worth the wait!!

There it is. An instafriday full of kids. Some mine, some not. Changing the way I feel about kids...One week at a time.

Happy Friday!

Linking up over here today. Check it out...

The day I washed Brodie's mouth out with soap

First and foremost, I want to acknowledge that I know foul language is frowned upon. I get it. Jeremy and I both get it. We know we’re supposed to set better examples and not use foul language, especially in front of our kids.

We do anyway.

Not a lot and not always on purpose, but we do. We use it more like intense punctuation than we do anything else. We’re human. We’re working on it, and that totally counts.

There was football on television on Sunday. The use of intense punctuation usually increases when that happens. I won’t say which one of us is to blame for dropping the “F” bomb during one of the games, which was then repeated over and over again by a certain 2 year old in our home, but I will tell you that it wasn’t me. I share that part, mostly, because it usually IS me.  

When the two year old started repeating it, we laughed. I know, I know, rookie mistake. I know you’re not supposed to laugh. We couldn’t help it. When a two year old says a bad word…sometimes it’s funny. Especially the first time. So, we laughed a little. Told him “No.” Listened to him repeat it a few more times, just to get a rise out of us. Told him “No” again. Then proceeded to ignore him, thinking that when we stopped thinking it was a big deal, he would stop thinking it was a big deal. He says new words all of the time, repeats them again and again, and then forgets them the next morning. We told ourselves it wouldn’t stick.  

Now, keep in mind that we were completely delusional because the kid already uses the “S” word in a sentence correctly. It’s embarrassing, but it’s true.

So, Tuesday morning when Jeremy, Brodie and I were hanging out before I left for work, Brodie drops something by the recliner. He uses the “S” word, looks up at J and I, knows damn well we’re pissed, smiles, then repeats it over and over…and over. Again, we laugh. I know, parents of the year, right? I’m yelling at Jeremy to stop laughing and he’s yelling at me to stop laughing and Brodie’s laughing harder than both of us and yelling the word LOUDER now…

Finally, we gain composure, try again with the “No.” and the explanation, in as clear of a language as you can get when talking to a 2 year old. He nods, we’re good. Moving on.

15 minutes later, the kid is sitting next to Jeremy, chillin’ in front of the television, totally calm. He looks up at his dad, looks at me, looks back at Jeremy, smiles and drops the “F’ bomb.

On purpose. Clear as a bell. Over and over again.  

F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.                                                                                                                                         

This time, there was no laughing. Jeremy looked up at me with huge eyes and that “Uh-Oh Son, Mamma’s about to lose it” look he gets right before I lose it.

By this point, I’ve had it. I no longer find it funny and I think the kid is starting to sound like one of The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia. I don’t want to be that lady. With that kid. So, I did what I knew to do.

That’s right. I got the Dawn. I took his little mouth into the kitchen, made him stick out his tongue, put enough on the lid for him to get the point, and wiped it on. Now, if you think this is harsh, blame my mother. This is the way she handled business. This is the way I was raised. I grew up more in a “Do as I say not as I do” kind of world. Maybe I wasn’t parented properly. Another story for another day. But, when my mom had had it with certain language, she did things like put actual Dawn, nasty mess, old school turquoise, original dishwashing detergent in my mouth. It was horrible. I can still remember the way it tasted 25 years later.

I was six. It was a Thursday in the early spring. I know this because The Cosby Show was on and I didn’t get to watch it. I was being punished for using the word, “Hate”. I had been in trouble before, grounded from watching the Smurfs, but this time my mom was looking for something a little more severe. So, out came the Dawn. I’m still traumatized. That stuff is NASTY!

Brodie acted just about the way I thought he would. Squished up face, gagging noises, sticking his tongue out and trying to scratch off the taste. He continued for almost 30 minutes, rotating between drinking water and scratching his tongue. At one point, he blew an actual Dawn/Snot bubble out of his nose.

 It. Was. Awesome.

Later in the day, we were walking next door to see my Dad and Brodie tripped. He said, “Dammit”. I stopped, looked at him, and asked, “Do you want me to put soap in your mouth?” He replied, “Nooooooo” and shook his head. He then patted my leg and said, “Sorry Mamma”.

Point Taken.

It’s okay Son, just don’t let it happen again or I WILL be forced to use the Dawn.

FOUR WEEKS!

These days, when you ask Logan about his Unc, (My brother, Austin) he’ll tell you that he’s in Afghanistan fighting bad guys. He’ll also excitedly tell you that Unc will be home in FOUR WEEKS! I don’t think that Logan quite understands what four weeks looks like, but he can tell from all the grown-ups in his world that it must be a short period of time and we can start being excited about it. I think he’s right. We are ALL excited about it. We all have our own reasons to be excited, but for one reason or another, we’re all happy he’s coming home.

In my world, my brother Austin is like Jasper Hale.

What? You don’t know Twilight? Lame. Okay, fine, let me explain.

Jasper Hale has this awesome ability to sense and manipulate the emotions of those around him. It’s like his power. They all have one. Keep up.

Anyway, Austin, while not a vampire, somehow ended up with this same ability. The beauty in Austin’s power, though, is I don’t even think he understands he possesses it.

But, he does.

Have you ever met one of those people who make it damn near impossible for you to be in a bad mood when you’re around them?

That’s my brother.

When I think I’m about to lose my mind from pure exhaustion and then someone tells a stupid joke that leaves me no choice but to laugh hysterically at the pure ridiculousness of it.

That’s my brother.

When I want desperately to be mad or upset or dramatic about something that probably won’t be that big of a deal tomorrow, but instead I end up making inappropriate jokes about the situation, often at someone else’s expense.

That’s my brother.

When I forget for a minute that there is always a reason to laugh, when I need someone to talk to who won’t let me take myself too seriously, when I start to think no one else’s brain works quite as fast as mine and I need someone to validate my useless crap…

That’s my brother.

Logan and Brodie are excited about Nerf Gun wars and silly songs they make up as they go. Jeremy is excited about war stories and beer. I’m excited about mid-morning coffee dates and long talks about nothing. Laughing so hard my stomach hurts. Smiling big, even when I don’t think I want to.

He might not be a vampire, but he is definitely my own brand of superhero.

He’s in Afghanistan fighting bad guys…and he’ll be home in FOUR WEEKS!!