Laying It Out There

I turned 28.  Feels good.  As Andi said, "28 just SOUNDS elegant. Like you say it with a smile, nod, and with closed eyes."  So now when people ask how old I am that's how I respond "28" while smiling, nodding confidently, and with my eyes whimsically closed.  Of course, no one has asked me yet.  
Bummer.
I think people generally stop asking after you turn 10.  Like you hit double digits.  We can quit counting/asking now.   Ken made my all-time favorite cake.  Angel food cake with real whipped cream icing topped with Heath.  He surprised me with the candles.  Such a dearie.  And the good news is when I'm turning 82 we'll already have the candles for the cake.

As part of my celebration I took a trip back to Idaho.  Ken-mo had to work.  Boo hiss.  So it was just me and the little guys.  The car ride was great aside from all the screaming, whining, kicking, and food throwing done by Koley.  But we arrived.  A little weary... but in one piece.   I stayed at my Mom's which is as close to Heaven (aside from that birf-day cake) as it gets.  I napped.  I hot tubbed.  I watched TV.  I remember seeing my kids...but mostly Grandma Ginger had them.  She was either rocking Joey or driving trucks with Kole.  Or both.  All I had to worry about was whether I wanted Ranch or a Vinaigrette on my salad.  For my biggest news Joey suddenly snapped out of his devil-like trance and started sleeping at my mom's.  Sure he still had his fuss-bucket time but it was so much shorter.  And then he slept.  In the way that gives the phrase, "I slept like a baby" its validity.  From 11:00-6:00.  Oh, I am reborn.  He is reborn.  And he's kept it up too.  2 kids isn't so bad once you start sleeping more than 3 hours a night.  I'm borderline enjoying this.  

Here's the highlight reel:

28. Certainly a Peak of life.
(Those old lady arms are really photo-shopped on.  Mine are trim, sleek, and muscular.)

Loves loves loves tucking his shirt in for church.
And standing on the counter certainly was a treat.

Monkey-Watching with Granny Sheri

Such a playful, fun, doting Granny. 
Kole La-HOVED being back at the Tautphaus Park Zoo.
Especially with a Granny to play with.

After an hour or so of swimming in the Hot Pool at Gramma Ginger's, Kole needed some nourishment.  Via Lunchables.  Eaten in the nude.  Kole threw his inhibitions and propriety to the wind and snacked out.  With it all out.

A needed and joyous reunion with Natters.

Koley at the Splash Park back at home.
He likes going in mouth first.

Dad making it a leetle more fun.  As usual.

How To Be Not Mad

This is one of those "Smile for the Picture" photos.  I'm not really this smiley and carefree about having two boys to tend to. But I do think my eyebrows look good.

I think the secret to this Mom Thing is the old "Take Time For Yourself."
But not in the way it's always advertised.
I mean, get real.  Going to get a pedicure is out of the question with a 2 year old and a new born.  Heck, getting ready to get a pedicure is basically out of the question.  Spending time reading in a bubble bath... that's silly.  For two reasons.  One, I think baths are gross.  Just sitting in water made murky by all the dirt and mulch pieces that stuck to you from the playground with your toddler and all the puke/poop/drool from the new baby.  Eh eh.  Gross.  Second,  the warm water would activate le ol' milk ducts and I'd have two lactating fountains.  Again.  Eh eh.
All those glamorous "Me Time" ideas are ridiculous.  And even with a helpful partner, which I have, the time is still so limited.  I mean Joe Joe likes to eat.  A lot.  I haven't taught him to tell time yet but feeding every four hours is practically starving him.  So he's attached to the boob most of the day.  (Maybe that's why he's gained almost 4 pounds in a month.)

Anyway.

I have come to this conclusion.  I have to do something for me.  Every day.  I've spent a couple days paddling in the boat with the moms who don't and I know what it's like.  I end up resenting the kids.  Having thoughts of how mice life would be without them.  I think about hiring a kidnapper.  Not listed in the Yellow Pages. Hmph.  I swear at them in my head.  And sometimes out loud.  Anytime Joey starts crying I think "Where is the closest wall?  He's going through it!"  It's awful.  I feel possessed.  But, any mom who is doing this a-round the clock knows the feeling.  Like there is no escape.  Drowning.  Drowning when you weren't even having fun swimming.  Drowning when you were like... paddling on a treadmill or something.  Life feels heavy.  Awful.  And unhappy.

I think this is why some moms end up looking so upset.  And wrinkly.  Not to mention have perma-angry eyebrows and frowns.  Even when their kids are grown up. 

So- here's my secret.  First.  When Koley is going through a fit or tantrum or anything that involves yelling-  I walk away.  I'm not going to give in to him so why do I have to stand there and listen to him whine about it.  (Whine is not a strong enough word.  What is the word for whine times a million?)  It's little.  But it helps me.  I also have started reading my Oprah magazine when I am nursing the baby.  I started with my current book but there are a lot of interruptions when nursing a new born.  Burping, puking, Kole grabbing him.  I could get through 2 sentences over and over and over.  Frustrating.  So I switched to a magazine.  The first 5 or 6 times I browse through it I only look at the pictures anyway.  My biggest help has been movies.  Joey is still putting me in the Circle of Pain every night starting at about 10.  And carrying on until 1 or 2.  Only once until 3.  (In his defense it is getting better.  He told me I had to write that.)  But instead of pacing my bedroom and bouncing him and crying with him and watching Ken sleep and wishing I was in bed and praying for the strength not to harm this baby... I put in a no-think movie.  Movies like "The Devil Wears Prada"  or "Eat Pray Love."  A movie where the dialogue is not really that important.  That way I never get mad when Joe Bo amps up and I can't hear.  The time goes so much faster.  I feel like I did something fun.  And I'm not mad.

I figure I'm going to be tired anyway.  I might as well enjoy myself.

Does anyone else have a suggestion for me?
A trick you used to keep sanity?
Ken says adoption is not an option.

A Note For My Joey

Little Joey....
There are so many things I love about you.  Starting with your name.  Joseph.  You were named after PapPap and your name suits you so well.  I like that there are lots of variations.  Joey, Joe Joe, Joe Schmoe, Jozeppi, Joseph B. Smurflin, Joe Cool.  We like calling you different versions of your beautifully stable name.
Next, I love your fuzzy ears.  You have black hair all along the outside (and a little on the inside) of your over sized ears.  Another reminder of PapPap.  Your hair is gorgeous by the way.  Thick.  Black.  So so soft.  Your brother was bald until he was one.  I've never been a "Bald is Beautiful" type of girl so your locks have completely entranced me.  I want to give you a faux hawk.  I think it would suit you.
I love that your legs are all bow-legged and bent funny.  You like to tuck your knees into your armpits when you snuggle.  You look like a little boulder when you do that.  Perfectly rock-shaped. 
I like that you are becoming musical when you are nursing.  Every gulp carries it's own little tune.  And when you finish you let out one long sigh.  Like you are saying, "Ahhhhhhhh.  That was good." And you wiggle your little butt in real tight.  You seem so happy.  And I know all those smiles you give me are supposedly gas... but I don't believe that.  I think you're truly happy.  It's a big smile too.  Complete with dimples. 
Something about your face is very cartoon-y to me.  You have big big eyes and a pouty nose and luscious lips (especially for a boy) and it's all squished onto your little head.  Just looking at you makes me smile.
I even love your super buttery poops.  And I don't mind the fact that I have to change your diaper 12-15 times a day.  If you could work on only peeing on me half of those times... that would be great. 
You are a beautiful baby.  I just sit and look at you all the time.  I've come to the conclusion that you're perfect.  In every way.
If you could just do me one favor:

QUIT ALL THE BLOODY CRYING!