Fall 2014 Must Haves

Here are some of my Must Have things for Fall 2014.  Enjoy!

Red Flannel Pajamas
$44.50 +personalization cost

Pottery Barn

Lovbacken Side Table

$59.99

Ikea

Girls Sweetie Sweatshirt

$9.95

H&M

Karlstad Loveseat and Chaise Lounge

$1479.00

Here's my only qualm about this piece: really Ikea, the legs leave a lot to be desired.  Can you step it up?

Ikea

This jacket; so chic.
$245.00

Amazon

Carriage House Chandeliers

$149-$299

Ballard Designs

Terrace Bar Cart

$339

West Elm

Gilded Rim Stemware

$18 - $20

Anthropolgie

Crosley Record Player

$79.95

Amazon

Fujifilm Instax Mini 8

$62.99

Amazon

Studio Mucci Fringe Banner

$40

Studio Mucci

Cheers To My Daughter

Girls; they are terrific.  Don't get me wrong, boys aren't so bad either, but my little girl is just fantastic.  Here's all of the things that she's good at: eating, sleeping, cooing, grabbing at things, rolling over, smiling, smiling, smiling... did I say smiling?  If this girl's job was smiling, she'd be the best worker ever.  If there was a competition for who could coo the cutest, she'd be the world champion.

When I was pregnant, someone asked me if I was scared to have a girl.  Without hesitation, I was like, "Nope.  I'm a girl, so I think I got this!" but of course, she meant something other than the literal having of a girl, she meant all the other ish that comes with having a girl.  The years of parenting that will shape her into the woman that she will become.  So, I ask myself, am I afraid of the years of parenting that will shape her into the woman that she will become?  And the answer is still, "Nope!"

Here's the thing, I'm not afraid of raising my daughter and teaching her to value her self-worth and know who she is and what she stands for, I'm afraid of everyone else who thinks that they know her self-worth, what she is and what she stands for.  Girls these days are under pressure to be something like Instagram-famous,-Youtube-viral,-Facebook-million-friend-having young ladies and that's not realistic or fair.

What I want for my daughter is pretty simple: to have a happy, healthy, well-balanced, meaningful life and so far, she's got the the happy and healthy covered.  Honestly, she shines in a way that I've never seen; I damn near need sunglasses.  Her smile is breathtaking and it gets me every time.  She is the brightest spot in my days and I'm the luckiest to have her.

So, when people ask if I'm afraid to raise a girl, the answer will always be a variation of no, because that's not what this world needs.  What the world needs is for mothers who celebrate their daughters and vice-versa, together, we are going to make a happier, healthier, well-balanced, meaningful world.  Cheers to us!

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

In my family, we talk a lot about physical features.  My sister's hands and feet are long and slender; we call them Grandma Edna fingers and toes.  My hands are the opposite of hers and I affectionately call them my pirogi fingers.  I have Grandma Midge fingers.  She was a tiny Polish woman who was pretty fierce in the kitchen, hence the pirogi fingers.  To be candid, my ring size is an 8, but I got them upsized so that when my fingers swell I wouldn't feel huge.  (Have you ever seen when a woman's rings are strangling her fingers?  Not attractive.)  It's amazing how these features can define who you are, when I look at my hands I see a hard working woman who was a nurse in WWII and raised 5 girls.

My daughter's hands are beautiful.  They're soft and chubby, kind of like mine.  She's got a powerful grip, always letting me know that she's doing more than hanging on;  she's taking my hand, holding it because she wants to.  I wonder if she will have my features?  If she will be a powerful woman?  Powerful women are awesome, but don't confuse awesome with invincible.  Even powerful women need support.

I want to hold my daughter's hand both literally and metaphorically.  Her tiny hand in mine.  One day, I know that she won't want to hold my hand and that her power will eclipse mine, I am fine with that...  Until then, I'm going to give her my hand every single time she wants it.  I'm going to pull her up and she's going to guide me through this mother-daughter-thing.  So, what I'm trying to say is, look out!, cause here comes another powerful woman; pirogi fingers and all.

Wanted: A Baby Sister

Not too long after we told the boys that they were going to have a sibling, the gender talk started.  My husband was firmly in the boy camp- thought it was a boy and wanted a boy.  I, on the other hand, thought that it was a girl and said I wanted either a boy or a girl... but I won't lie now, I really wanted a girl.  As most things went in our household at the time, I figured I would be outnumbered in the wish-upon-a-baby-boy-star, but surprisingly that wasn't the case; the boys really wanted a baby sister.  Obviously, there's nothing that we could have done at that point to grant their wish, but they were the first two people I thought of when we learned it was a girl; her big brothers were going to be happy.

So far, they love having a sister and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that she's great.  On the rare occasion that she cries for longer than 30 seconds, one of them comforts her by saying, "I'm here Sissy, don't cry."  I realize that this kindness and concern may only last for another few years, and eventually they may become the cause of her tears, but for now I'm sincerely in love with their love for her.  They are much more gentle with her than with anything else in the whole world.  When they talk to her, they both use a soothing, higher pitched voice.  They, above all else, show me that they love her and that's all that I've ever really wanted, love for my children.

This week, I've been nearly ready to put her in her crib.  (I know, I know; that beautiful nursery that I'm so proud of hasn't gotten any real use...) We've been hanging out more in her room and she's spending little periods of time in her crib to grow accustomed to it, but when all is not well and Sissy is done with the crib, her brothers come rushing in and soothe her and tell her not to cry.  And she stops and watches them and then everything is right in the world again.

Mom Blogs Are Like Dinosaurs

Has anyone noticed recently that Mom-Blogs (a.k.a. cisforcullen) are going a little... extinct?  I read a lot of crap on the internet on the daily and it wasn't long ago that I was reading crap on a lot of Mom-Blogs, but now, I'm kind of not.  Why is that?  I think it's because the DIY Blog has replaced the Mom-blog; evolution y'all.

Since purchasing our second home, I've become obsessed with decorating blogs and websites, scouring the internet for Ikea Hacks (or makeovers to the layman) and tons and tons (and tons) of DIYs.  Move over parenting tips and birth stories, I've got mason jars to chalk board paint and Pottery Barn rooms to replicate up in here.  But as I'm sure the T-Rex did, when I see my fellow Mom-bloggers falling farther from the top of the food chain, it makes me wonder how long anyone will want to keep reading blogs about kids... and more precisely, this blog about my kids.

It is true that I've done a few DIY posts myself.  I love a good DIY or make over, but not reading about motherhood would be hard for me.  One of the biggest reasons I started writing this blog was to have a sense of community, meaning that I don't have a lot of friends who are mothers, so I had to seek them out on the internet.  Once I started reading other women's stories, I didn't feel so alone.  Mom-bloggers were funny and real and sometimes they shared their heart-break; I don't know how to describe the connection I had other than saying that it felt like I was reading an email from a friend, a friend with a kid (or two or three) who was going through what I was going through in real-time.

It's not that I don't appreciate the internet for what it is: a place to figure out how to do everything from being a parent to sanding and refinishing your hardwood floor, but I've just never been part of anything that I see being "yesterday's news."  I think my crew of Mom-bloggers is probably safe for now,  cause women are still havin' babies and other women want to read about it, but it does make me wonder how long we Mom-bloggers will still be relevant.

For now, relevant or not, I'ma do this blog my way so that me and my children have the opportunity to look back on these memories and see lots of pictures of them rather than a whole bunch of painted furniture, because after all, these children are my greatest DIYs.

(Excuse the throw-back pictures of the boys, I was cleaning up my phone and wanted to share some of the photos that I had never gotten around to doing previously.)

We Totally Made This Christmas Garland

It's not everyday that I can think of a pretty inexpensive craft that my kids can help with; usually inexpensive stuff equals not toddler friendly.  But this, this is different.  As I was flipping through the latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens (don't knock it, that magazine is cheap and has some good ideas in it), I spotted this garland; it may not be the prettiest, but it sure looked easy.  I tried to find a link to the actual garland that was pictured, but gave up after searching various things, so if you click on the link, it's just gonna take to the plain old main page, feel free to 'search it up'!

Here's all that you will need to make a pretty spectacular, easy, keepsake Christmas garland.

Paper Straws (I got mine in the dollar bin at Target a while ago)
String of any kind
Scissors
Wooden beads

Approximate cost (if everything is bought new)- $10.
Difficulty Level- Easy

Start by laying everything out and then telling your kids not to touch anything so that you can snap a picture for your blog, that will go over well:

Next cut each straw into small pieces, I cut each of my straws into thirds.

Then I approximated how much string I would need to fill, knotted one end and let the kids go to town; alternating between a bead and a green and red straw. Of course, I had to assist to the point that they could actually help, which really means pulling the string though the bead or straw.  That lasted for a few minutes, evenutally they both decided that they'd had enough and quit half way through, but it was fun while it lasted.

Once you reach the end of the string, and may or may not still have kids helping, tie off the other end and snap another picture, 'cause look at y'all, you just made something pretty awesome.

Hang it up.

It's The Bangs, Right

Arden is fascinated with technology.  He knows how to slide open both the iPad and my iPhone.  He can then go to YouTube, our PBS app or the video app and watch his favorite things.  I'm pretty sure that there are some adults that I know that couldn't do this... ahem, Dad.  He loves it when I let him have a photo shoot and by that I mean that he clicks the picture button a hundred times before I say, alright that's enough.

The other day, he wasn't feeling well and so I scooped him onto my lap and he started snapping away.  Three or four days later, when I went to delete most of the pictures, I stumbled on this one; don't we look like twins?  I'm pretty sure that it's the bangs and the hair color, but it's cool, I'm still going to claim it.  I don't think that either of my children look like me.  Obviously, Cullen looks just like Jim and I think Arden looks like my Dad, who he calls Pa- just like Little House on the Prairie.  I've said before that our third child will be the tie breaker and then Jim and I will be able to claim victory in the genes department.

So, I guess if I'm going to get more pictures where I look like my kids that it's worth letting them take hundreds of shots while my picture count soars into the thousands.

 

The Balance Of Being Three

There's very little that I know for certain in life, but what I do know is that when my sweet, darling boy picks a flower for me at recess and stashes it away in his cubby for me to find when I pick him up at the end of the day, my heart melts.  His kindness and thoughtfulness is really overwhelming sometimes.  Like when he says to me, "I will try not to ever hurt your feelings, Mom!" I know that he means it.

But there are days (many, many days) that are filled with running and jumping and kicking and pushing and shoving and all sorts of rambunctious boy stuff that would test anyone's patience.  So, it's amazing to watch this little balance start to happen.  Cullen is always the first one to exclaim, "you look so pretty, Mom!" when I walk down the stairs, but still has no problem screeching in my face if he doesn't like what I have to say.  I guess it's part of growing up, but since I'm biased  I think he's doing a better job than most kids his age; he has an amazingly kind spirit that literally gives me strength and happiness.

So that flower (which is really a weed, but who's judging?) that he picked got immediately wrapped up in my purse and is going to stay there- a reminder of how a nice gesture brings so much joy to my life.

Bubbles Sleeping

The battle for sleep has been an epic one in our household.  There've been quite a few nights where we've surrendered and slept-four-to-a-bed, and as much as I don't like getting a swift kick to the kidneys, I can honestly say the best thing to see when waking up is a sleep two year old.  He's all sideways in the bed, taking up half my pillow, while I am crammed onto the narrowest ledge of bed, and it's awesome.

It's moments like these, that I will treasure forever- definitely, images like this will flash through my mind as he crosses the threshold into some important parts of life: school, graduation, college, marriage and parenthood.  I will no doubt tell him about these special memories and I only hope that I do them justice and he realizes that even the littlest of moments were so completely loved; how I didn't mind it as much if it meant that I got to start my day seeing him first thing, curled up next to me.

Quiet

Every once in a blue moon, I get a chance to have a few quiet moments to myself and I love it with such abandon that I feel incredibly guilty; for you see, Mother's are supposed to love the hustle and bustle of each day, the interruptions and long hours.  But what happens when you're exhausted and you're doing too much?  What happens when you really like the quiet?

Its 4:49 pm on a Monday and I'm alone.  The air conditioning is humming, the TV is muted while young couples House Hunt, internationally; and I'm sitting here, feeling all sorts of guilty that the kids are at school and I haven't gone to get them yet.  It's somewhat imagined, I know everyone's always saying, "take time for yourself" but it's hard, because taking time comes at a cost; spending time as a family.

I feel strongly that it's healthy to have outlets outside of the four walls of your home; having new experiences with other people makes me, feel refreshed and thankful.  One minute, I can be out with friends (thanks to my husband, who is extremely accommodating with these needs) sharing generalized craziness from my life and the next, I'm home with my family, a place that I strongly feel I need to be and even more-so, where I want to be even.  So, that's the problem, I guess; I want it all.

I'm no different than most other human beings in that I'd like a good life, filled with wonderful and amazing people and things and here's the great part- I have it.  But I'm wise enough to know when I also have too much of a good thing and when I need an afternoon of quietness to make all of the afternoons full of happy chaos… well, happy.

A day like this might not be so bad.

My Style

When I announced that I was doing a 30 Day Blog challenge, I solicited requests for blog post topics and my friend, Bear suggested talking about my parenting style and I thought that was a great request.  I don't know that I've ever elaborated on what I'd define as my parenting style and yet, I write about the product of said parenting ad nauseum, so it seems only logical that I give it a whirl and do my best to convey how it is that Jim and I parent our children.

My life has been happily chaotic for a while now, I define exactly what that means by way of a timeline in my "About Me" section of this blog, but allow me to give you the cliff notes version: graduated college in 2005, met Jim in 2006, married Jim in 2008, had Cullen in November of 2009 and had Arden in February of 2011.  Prior to having Cullen, I had a miscarriage when I was 15 weeks- it was total devastation, I literally cried so hard that my eyes were blurry for weeks and at points it literally hurt to breathe.  It happened 20 days before my birthday and I was convinced that I would never recover, never go on.

But then, two months later, I did go on; and while I will never know what my family would've been like- nor will I ever stop wondering, I truly felt like I got a second chance.  I explain all of this to give a frame of reference for the basis of my personal parenting style and where Jim and I consistently parent from... most of the time.  I honestly think, as I'm sure everyone who's ever been pregnant or has been a parent believes, that my children were the most wanted, loved, cherished children that have ever been born; yet I can distinctly remember holding my breath for 40 weeks, after my initial loss, the crazy abandon with which I embraced pregnancy was never able to be replicated because I was too fearful that it would be taken away from me again.  

So, it is with that feeling of total love from which I parent-- let me just be clear that when I say total love, I mean a healthy, balanced love, one that allows my children to be imperfect and human while still being my world and the reason I get out of bed in the morning.  I parent from the perspective of love first, secondly I parent from a perspective of reason and third from an awareness for the future; in reality, I'd like to have a child that knows they are loved unconditionally, who was raised to be an independent, kind person that will make an impact on society- and that doesn't mean on a large scale, it can be as small as donating library books or as large as becoming president, just so long as their happy.

Recently, I've noticed that parents can be destructive in their parenting choices and, whether intended or not, I think it's unfortunate that it happens, because really, every parent (in any capacity) is just trying.  Trying to do their best, whether they can or not, that's another story.  I know it may sound odd, but parenting from the perspective of loss, or more accurately challenge, has helped me and Jim be eternally grateful for the blessings that children have brought to our lives, don't get me wrong though, I fully respect everyone's decision about becoming a parent, it's incredibly complex and by far the most challenging thing I've ever done, but I know for a fact that it's the best decision we've ever made.

Above all else, I try to be kind to my children (and let me tell you, that's sometimes very difficult) and let them be "free thinkers," but I don't confuse that with being disrespectful or unkind.  I've tried to continue an important element of my parent's parenting style- while being the adult in charge, my parents allowed us, within reason, to make decisions independently and listened when we came to them to talk about everything- big or small.  It's something that Jim and I have worked hard to create within our own family structure, we make it a point to have dinner as a family every night and we sincerely attempt to listen to our children, not just hear them, but really listen... and so far it's working.

This is what makes me happy.

Ma, Ma, Mommy

The sweetest word by far that I've ever heard has got to be "mama."  It was as if a light went on in my life the first time Cullen said "mama" and it was more than baby babble; he knew who I was.  It's funny though, because as my children have grown up, we've already hit different stages of our relationship and right now, Cullen and I are entering the "mom" stage.  When I say, "I love you Cullen," he says, "I love you too, Mom."  That used to be "I love you, Mommy" and before that I was "Love you, Mama."

You see, as he grows up, I'm being reminded that he's, well... he's growing up and our relationship is taking on a more toddler-mom dynamic as opposed to a need-you-every-second-of-the-day-mama one.  I've gotta be honest, it sucks.  I want to have totally developmentally capable children, who want to become productive members of society; however, I just want all of that to happen while being their number one gal; that's realistic, right?

As Cullen gets older and more independent with each day, I find myself looking nostalgically at old photos, like the one before, where I was his mama and he was my "baby boy."  Today, he's still my baby boy- pretty sure he always will be, but to him, I'm his Mom- and I'm fine with that, because it's still the sweetest word I've ever heard.

That Feeling

When my child is in day care while I'm at work, the scariest thing ever is seeing the day care's name pop up on my caller id.  No joke, I want to shit a brick.  Today when I got a call saying that Arden had bumped his chin, and I probably should come take a look, I panicked.  What I will remember most about early childhood parenting is this feeling, because saying that I panicked doesn't really do it justice.  The feeling is stronger, it's kinda like hysteria with a dash of nausea.  Even thinking about it makes me have anxiety.

Well, I went and looked and because I'm not a doctor (I just play one on TV), I decided to let the pediatrician make the call.  4 hours, 2 stitches and 3 shots later (4 including the Novocaine), my baby and I left the doctor's office, frazzled but in good spirits.

I guess with boys, these cuts and bumps are bruises come with the territory and I'm fine with that.  But that feeling, the one of complete helplessness and terror, I'm definitely not cool with that one.  Nope, I don't ever need that one again.

It's Not Enough

Today's post is brought to you by the number 30.

I've never addressed the fact that both Jim and I work, so here it is: I'm a 40+ hour a week worker, who has 2 kids and I'm fine with it.  Sure, it means that Jim and I are constantly juggling things like staying late, picking up barfing kids from daycare, not going to all of the milestone doctor's appointments, etc., but that's the situation I've got and I deal with it pretty well.

I'm not a proponent or opponent of doing the "work thing" or the "stay-at-home gig," I only advocate that other men and women do what works best for them.  I don't even have to think about this dilemma, because I know that working keeps me healthy and grounded, and that's kinda why I do it.  However, those benefits don't outweigh the cost that is the most precious to me: there are some nights, like tonight that I will only get 30 minutes (max) to spend time with my kids before they throw themselves on the floor and scream to be put to bed.  (This is not an exaggeration, Cullen literally looks up at us with his puppy dog eyes and asks when he can go up to bed; I've gotta admit, it's endearing and awesome- most of the time, except for nights that I work late.)

I wasn't a latch-key kid by any means, but I had two working parents, and I turned out fine awesome and I'm confident that my boys will be awesome too, so we're taking that component out of the argument.  What completely sucks about 30 minutes of quality time with my kids is what that actually looks like and just to be clear, this is what I'm talking about:

7:30ish: I open the door.  Overwhelming excitement from everyone, "Mama's home!"  The delightfully, exuberant squeals last for precisely 3 seconds and then I'm dropped like a bad habit for iPads and goldfish crackers...
7:30 and 3seconds-ish: I think, "yes, I'm home!  I can finally concentrate on those two beautiful, wonderful kids..." But just as I'm about to, I start to get these racing thoughts, like:  what are we having for dinner, what type of day have the kids had, is anyone sick, do we have anything that needs to go into the laundry, do we need to clean up (hold your laughter, Dad!), what's on tap for tomorrow, we need to turn in money for the teacher's wedding gift, I need to schedule that 15 month check-up, I have to call the bakery tomorrow to get an anniversary cake, etc., etc., etc."

So there I stand, burning my 30 minutes quicker than I can savor them and before I know it, I'm kissing one and then the other of the boys goodnight and they're off to bed.  Most nights, after I work late, I sit on the couch- as though I've been sideswiped by a truck, and think out loud, "Seriously?!  I cannot believe this day is over and I only got 30 minutes with the boys.  That's not fair and it's not enough."

It's not something that's going to change anytime soon, nor am I looking for it to change, because I realize that things in life just aren't always fair.  I also know that my plight may not be as bad as some, so I'm grateful that it's just one night a week, but that's not going to stop me from thinking that it sucks.  However, these are the realities that all parents face, working or not.

The only remotely nice thing about working late is that the sleeping baby pictures that I sometimes get are really cute.  So, I do consider that to be one non-terrible thing about working late, but that's the only thing.