Brothers: We Share Everything

As a person who had two siblings, I distinctly recall when I got chicken pox (remember when that still existed?) and my Mom making my sister drink and eat after me to ensure that she got it; she never did.  So it was just lil' ol' me suffering with a case of the itchies and a permanent scar on my forehead.  Well, now that I'm a parent of siblings, I can pretty much guarantee that when one of my boys is sick, the other one is almost  certainly going to follow right along.  As was the case just recently when we went through our yearly bout of gastroenteritis- or as I like to call it, "quick, grab a bowl!"

The worst part though, is that I get it too.  This year, I'm pretty sure that I brought it on myself.  At like the fifth day I was marveling to someone that I hadn't gotten it yet, but that "I'd like to lose 5 pounds by the weekend, so it wouldn't be terrible if I did get it."  Low and behold, the next day, I got it.  And for the record, it was terrible.

But life goes on and we are all on the mend now; next year, I'm sure we will go through the same thing and those few days will be barfy and gross and I will be happy when we're all done with it.  Because even though I go on (and on and on) about how close I want these two Brothers to be, I don't want them to be this close.

It only takes one lick of each others' lollipop and boom, they're both barfing up a storm.

Priceless

This. is. priceless.

First time on a big boy ride and it looks like he enjoyed it... sort of.

Little Moments

Recently, I haven't had a chance to connect with my family nearly enough.  It's been all long working hours spent wishing good nights over the phone and sneaking into bed and hoping I don't disturb my husband.  To say it's been challenging is an understatement, but what makes it worth it is the little moments.  Like today when we passed a motorcycle and Cullen shouted, "Ironman!"  Or when Arden mastered the word "chef" this week- these moments stop me in my tracks and I understand that just because life is moving a million miles an hour, it doesn't mean that I'm not connecting with it.

It reminded me of this moment from the beach the other week.  My Dad and I were strategically blocking Arden from making it down a flight of steep stairs, when he decided that he'd lost interest anyways and went back to do what he does best, being extremely cute while climbing on things.  This time it just so happened that he was having these moments of purely electric joy with my Dad while I had my camera and I got some great shots.  (Climbing is literally Arden's jam.  He lights up when he's scaling almost anything- a chair, a bunk-bed ladder, his crib- and beams with pride every chance he gets.)  It captures this little moment that means a lot to all of us, Arden's at his happiest, climbing up and down, I'm at my happiest getting to spend time with my son and my Dad and my Dad is surrounded by me... so of course he's at his happiest.  And it's these moments that remind me that I've gotta make the small moments work, 'cause sometimes it's not fair, but that's all I'm going to get.

So, I'm going to do myself a favor this weekend, I'm going to string together the little moments and count the memories from them and not count the minutes.

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.

Big Brother, Little Brother

Being an older sibling has it's perks, false claims that younger brothers and sisters are adopted, top the list, but it also comes with responsibility.  Being the oldest, is an entirely different "bag" so to speak.  Us oldest children are top dog in many ways, but in others, we miss out.  My whole life, I wanted an older brother, I'm not exactly sure why, but after seeing my boys, I know why- because older brothers are kind of the best.

I call each of my boys, "Brother."  If there's an apology to be had, it's said to Brother or a toy to be shared, it's with Brother; I've tried to teach my sons that they are brother's first and I hope that's a mentality that translates throughout their lives.

Having the opportunity to see this relationship develop is certainly one of the most important experiences of my life and I'm reminded every day that it's happening with the help of my influence and in ways in which i could never influence; it's instinct with these two.  It's why at 2:00 am, Arden is pointing upstairs to have Cullen come down and join us for some late night Olympics watching or why Cullen runs screaming through the house after a mall-trip with Poppy for his, "Brother!"; because they have this bond, one that makes everything just a little more special.

So, it's no surprise that we've reached the stage where the Little Brother wants to do everything that the Big Brother does, sometimes to Big Brother's delight, but most often not.  As a older sibling, I can tell Cullen, the Big Brother, that this is probably never going to change, Arden's going to want to be like you and that's a good thing.  I'm not saying this in a huberous, narsasistic type way, I mean it in a organically innocent way, and it goes back and forth.

I am well aware that family cannot be chosen, although, mine has always been a blessing, so it's magical to watch essentially two strangers bound only by genetics create this friendship that transcends almost everything in their world in order to become the best of friends.  For Arden- I'm eternally grateful that he has a big brother as kind and loving as Cullen.  And for Cullen- I'm forever comforted by the fact that he has a brother who will support him and kick ass and take names on his behalf.

The Pouty Face

80% of our lives are spent having adorably curious, well mannered children and the other 20% is filled with pouty lips, then tears and screaming (to some degree)... Most of the time, we can see it coming.  The boys are having a great ol' time playing and we politely tell them that they need to stop and join us for dinner at the table -10 feet away- and it's as though something all together insurmountable has been asked.  Enter the bargaining, stomping and crying and we've got our typical dinner scene.

We try pretty hard to make compromises.  The beginning of dinner is mandatory; all 4 of us spend a moment to ask one another about our days; but after that it's entirely up to them if they'd like to spend the rest of the meal with us.  Usually, they don't and that's fine, because as I've learned, it's about picking our battles.  So, if the beginning of dinner is the most important and contributes to our family relationship the most, then we're not taking "NO!" for an answer, but as the minutes drag on and the sun is setting, we've learned not to push it.

It's hard though, right?  I was reading a parenting article the other day about mistakes parents make, which I know I do on the daily, and it got me to thinking about how I'd like to find a better balance between expectations and reality, happy-go-lucky and full on meltdown.  I'm thinking it's something that never truly is accomplished, because just as we're finding the "right balance," another new stage is coming along and we're at the beginning of a new balance, a new perspective and new set of battles to be chosen.

As with all families and relationships, we're a work in progress, learning as we go, making mistakes -whether intentional or not- and finding out what works sometimes moment to moment.  And that's alright, because seriously, a pouty face or two is kind of adorable.