Um, Hello?....Is This Thing On?

How can I break this down in its easiest, simplest form?

To be succinct, I'll say this:
Nicole + full time Mama job + full time wife/household engineer duties + new part time high-stress job + holiday madness = a sad little blog that has been neglected for two months, 1 week & 4 days.

I did it! I broke it down, and it only took one sentence! See, I've been dreading this blog posting for quite some time. Especially when I consider those of you who have remained so faithful to me, sometimes emailing me or asking me in person, "Uh, what the hell happened to your blogging?"  If you were one of those people, did you sense my nervous laughter and my stressed-induced tic? Or the stammering for the words to explain? It's hard to REALLY explain where I've been, and why blogging went out the window, except to say- a high stress lifestyle, such as the one I've been introduced to the last two months, apparently sucks the life out of every creative brain cell I own. There were many days I'd sit down in front of the computer, ready to write after a long day, and all that I could muster was something along the lines of "my feet hurt and sure do sweat a lot when I'm working".

So, I thought I'd spare you.

But as my glamorous part-time job as a seasonal sales associate at Williams-Sonoma seems to be slowly waning (as expected), suddenly there's room in my brain for other things. Like people, showering, exercising, weekend football. Lately, I've noticed there is a creative itch that has (re)surfaced. And I'm here to get scratching.

After all, Ben has his first loose tooth (WHO GETS A LOOSE TOOTH AT 4.5?), and Ella is flirting with the idea of potty training. And there was a recent incident in which Dan ended up explaining to Ben how babies are made without me there to control the conversation.

So, yeah. We've got some things to talk about, sweet blog of mine.

Baby steps to getting back on the saddle again.

An Honorable Defense (almost)

Have I mentioned before that Ben isn't a huge fan of change? And by change, I mean Dan returning to work after having been home for a week on Spring Break. I learned this is enough change to tip his scales and send him into an unfortunate phase that is pure defiance mixed in with a healthy dose of destruction (namely breaking a pencil into 1,000 pieces, and then putting those pieces down the heater vent in Ella's room....)

And I am oh so done with it. My patience went extinct days ago. In fact, I must have said under my breath half a dozen times, "when did my sweet baby boy turn into an almost 4 year old little punk?"

Of course Mommy still loves you, Little Bug.
And you're not really a punk you're just behaving like one. They're completely different, I promise.

But. Since we've already broached the subject, Benjamin Daniel....

I've got some questions. Must you really destroy everything you get your hands on? Must you take that evil tone with me EVERY time you address me? Must you cause such rascality in the morning hours that I'm already frazzled before showering? On those particular mornings, I'm riddled with apprehension, just anticipating the unfolding of The Drama you've gotten so good at creating. Because at least when we're at home, we can have our World War III battles in private, but when we're in public, I feel like I have to censor every word that comes out of my mouth for fear of suspicious nearby eavesdroppers who might take my words grossly out of context. And then when all else fails, I try to scoop you up in my arms and ever so gently secure you in your car seat, turn on some happy tunes (ABBA usually does the trick), and wait for the grumpy storm to pass. Sometimes this means listening to ABBA far longer than any person should in one day.

So I suppose it's safe to say we've hit a bit of a rough patch, Ben & I. And while 99% of it is difficult and exhausting there is that one tee tiny 1% that keeps me from having a complete mental breakdown: his 1-2 line rebuttals. They are borderline genius and totally random so I thought I'd highlight some of my favorites that were thrown at me this week (and no, I don't make this stuff up):

Me: Ben, why are you behaving this way?
Ben: Mama, little boys just don't know what they're doing. We don't know, Mama. So, you can't get mad at little boys, okay?
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Me: Ben, we're not watching any TV right now. Please stop asking me.
Ben: But Mama, I'm just feeling a little bit SHOWY. Do you know what that means? Showy just means that I need to watch a show. So, let's just put on a show, and then I won't feel showy, okay Mama?
*******************
Me: You need to stay right here next to me when we're in the parking lot.
Ben: But I need to watch those girls!
Me: Why?
Ben: Because they're so pretty!
*******************
Ben: Mom, did you know that I'm the Director of this house?

*******************

Sweet child of mine, you need to hurry up and end this little phase. It's unbecoming. Furthermore, it's almost your 4th birthday, and I really want to have wonderful, heart-warming things to say when that day draws near. But right now, if nothing else, I guess I can commend you for sprinkling your tantrums with a dash of slick wit. Clearly, you are the fruit of my loins.

Winds of Change

Image by sarniebill1 via Flickr

Thank you, legendary 80s band Scorpions. Because of you and your killer one-hit wonder song, I have an appropriate title for my post today.

The winds of change have been blowing around or perhaps just directly on me because in the last week I have done the following life-altering things:

• Weaned the baby girl. On her birthday, to boot. I was fully prepared to breastfeed her for as long as she wanted, but then her crazy sharp teeth got involved, and subsequently deep (and incredibly painful) teeth marks were being left on my innocent flesh. I took that as a sign to wrap things up in the breastfeeding department. For the most part, it appears to have gone unnoticed, and she seems fine with this change. Sometimes she gets angry and yells at me a little bit, and we're not able to lay down together in my bed anymore (though I'm sure we'll be able to in a few weeks time), but thankfully she is very passionate about her sippy cup and boy oh boy, can that girl chug down some water! It's bittersweet- of course I miss that cozy time with her and I find that I'm asking myself 100 times a day "where did the time go?", but ultimately- I have my boobs back, and therefore quite a bit more freedom (cue George Michael's Freedom).
  
• Weaning the baby girl = no more excuses to NOT join a gym. So I did! This has been one of the most monumental decisions of the past 4 years, and I don't mean that lightly. Something has clicked inside of me, and I knew that starting this "getting healthy" journey I'm embarking upon would not be legitimate until I was able to get to a place of No More Excuses. I've loved every second (more or less) of being a mommy these last 4 years, but I'm ready to take a step back and begin taking care of myself, nurturing myself, giving myself an outlet. I truly believe the greatest gift I can give those two precious children of mine is to take care of their Mama. I've begun the journey and it truly feels great. Next on the list: get pedicure for the first time in over a year.
• On a side note: workout equipment and general gym culture have really changed in the last 4 years. Machines are more complicated, and people seem to be much more paranoid about their peers' sweat and germs. Bringing your own towel is of the utmost importance. Disinfecting your own equipment is standard protocol. Wearing your sports bra ONLY (as opposed to my "old school" standard of under my shirt) seems to be the new norm. I have also learned that working out in front of a TV (namely, The Ellen show) really speeds things up. Also, any cocky attitude I had was destroyed that first day the moment I attempted the stairmaster machine on anything over a level 1. Climbing flights and flights of stairs is serious business, and I plan on throwing a party the day I can advance past a level 3 on that machine.
  
• Ben has twice in the last week attempted to take care of me with such intense concern for my well-being, I couldn't not include it on this list. Exhibit A: After I let out a giant yawn and sigh, Ben immediately looked at me and said,

"It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I know you're really tired. Don't worry, we're going to go to bed really soon. It's okay Mommy. Everything will be fine."

Exhibit B: After overhearing me complain of sore working out muscles and bones, Ben said,  "Mommy, don't worry. I'm going to take good care of you and you will feel all better." When did he learn along the way that that's all a girl ever needs to hear?

• Went to the girly doctor. You know....to have that ONE procedure done. The one that sort of rhymes with "cap sneer". The one that's supposed to occur annually, but never really does (or at least, not in my world, as I'm a master of procrastination).  Oh man, was I ever apprehensive. I had the nervous sweaty palm sweats and everything. Also, I was way too overly excited to see my doctor when she walked in, which I hope she interpreted as flattering, but really could have been interpreted as ultra creepy. Who tells their Gyno, "It's SO GREAT to see you again!" and then beams with smiles and giggles? Who? Me, that's who. Anyway, I'm looking forward to twelve whole months of not having to do THAT again. (And for the record- my doctor's office covers the stirrups on that dreadful table with oven mits, which I find hilarious and bizarre. And somehow this makes me cringe just a teensy bit each time I take something out of my oven).
• As a result of said doctor's appointment, I unexpectedly had my blood drawn for routine tests. This experience alone deserves its very own blog posting because the chain of events that occurred during this proceedure were some of the most hilarious and uncomfortable moments of my life. I'll just say this: my incredibly small, child-like, almost non-existent veins + my intense fear of needles + my tendency to black out because of heightened nerves because of fear of needles + very sweet but very inexperienced and bubbleheaded phlebotomist = 1 of 5 attempts successful and sore, bruised arms with lots of needle holes. Definitely not the highlight of my week.
 

Speaking of the highlight of my week, I've got a down blanket, a great book, and a tall mug of hot chocolate waiting for me, a husband out, and two children and one dog sound asleep.

The perfect Friday night.