SKIVVIES

"You make it look so easy," she said. Never would I ever, ever, ever imagine someone saying that to me... about anything. "I don't make anything look easy," I thought to myself. Well, except looking like a fool sometimes.... that IS easy.

She was talking about motherhood and the fact that I was allowing my youngest to wander around naked at the park after he drenched himself in a puddle. "I've come a looooooong way," I thought. I used to follow Layla around with a wet wipe (Whep Whipe as she calls it) and make certain every hair was in place and not a spec of dirt allowed to dirty her attire or face. She was my only, and I wanted every moment of her life to be picture perfect. And Layla wasn't much for dirt or mess either, so we lived harmoniously.
Then came two bouncing boys. Boys who's inherent qualities challenge the core of my orderly and clean nature.  So I've adapted. I've learned that it's actually less work and more fun/learning for the children to just let them enjoy what they're doing and strip them down to their skivvies at the end. We pack a spare set of clothes in "the bin" and it makes for a much more enjoyable experience for all involved.
I'm no master of the lackadaisical life, but I CAN be easygoing. Promise. But only when I'm prepared and planned ahead... Yeah, maybe not as easygoing as I'd like to believe. Well, at least I somehow managed on that single day to make it look easy.
Bizarre.

THE BIN

This is THE BIN. 

It's a life saver and a must have for any mom. 

I recently showed it to my darling friend of new twins - and her husband went berzerk for it.

It takes away MOST of those "Oh shiz" moments when you find yourself in a fix.

I access an item from THE BIN at least once a month.

Had I not had this in my car on a few occasions - we would have survived, but there would have been a lot more swearing and crying on my behalf. 

And the children's.

So it is really just an "Essensials Kit" for the car. 

I rotate clothing and accessories for the seasons. 

ie: sunblock in the summer, spare hats/gloves  in the winter.

Contents:

Diapers

Wipes

Hand Sanitizer

Spare outfit for each child (nothing cute - usually an old misfit outfit and according to season, which comes in very handy when the boys have a blow out (often) or the random "accident" by Layla.)

Water bottle

Formula (powdered milk in case the boys need food/drink)

Granola Bars

2 spare binki's

Towel

Dirty diaper disposable bags

Seasonal items:

Sunblock

Handwarmers

Hats (winter and summer)

Gloves

Blanket

SUMMER. TWENTY.THIRTEEN

This summer is going to be superb. The boys are walking and old enough to enjoy parks, bikes, and sidewalk chalk. It's been an epic winter of hibernation. This summer is fast approaching and I can't wait. Watching old clips like these get my provoke my cravings for warm weather and long summer days:

This was just before Rider was born and life was a little more simple Pool time baby! This was only 1 year ago. I can't believe how little Layla was. The age that Rider will be this fall. My favorite age.

CONTRIBUTIONS

I was deathly ill on Friday. 

Don't know what from. 

My guess is either Ovarian Cyst or Gallbladder Attack.

Either way, thanks to Kday for staying home with the kids because really, i thought I was dying.

Saturday I worked in the morning.

Then Kday and I tuned into our green thumb and worked in the yard until dusk. 

The kids could not have been happier. 

Dirt filled fingernails and muddy faces, evidence of their exoplorations. 

The boys discovered "the brother bears" statue in our yard 

(More on these awesome bears later)

And Owen kept saying Beah beah beah and hugging it. 

Too cute.

Today I get a few things in order. 

First, Layla's "contribution chart"

Think... chore chart-but what sounds better to a person "Do your chores." or " Don't forget to do your contributions." 

She started her contributions last year when we lived with my folks and some how when we moved here I lost her chart. 

And it's high time we get back to basics.

Next, clean house - because it's Manic Monday and it must be done.

Then, plan for Easter and make sure eggs are stuffed with candy and baskets are filled. 

And finally, hopefully, nap time.

Last week a miracle was witnessed and the boys both napped in the same room... at the same time... no rocking!

Then, yesterday, when I planned on a nice loooong sunday nap --- my boys sabotaged me. 

2.5 hours of trying to get them to nap together failed. 

And I snapped.

I ate an entire plate of nachos with guacamole to manage my frustration.

Fail.

Cheers to a new week filled with lots of green smoothies.

ONE-DERLAND

I think I kinda hit rock bottom the other day. Weight wise. Except it didn't really stop me from eating an entire bag of MiniEggs yesterday. Whatever. As I was saying... I have this awesome picture hanging on my fridge. Its supposed to be a motivational "thinspiration" picture if you will. Its of me, a few months before we got Layla. So, early 2009 - which happens to be when I was at my thinnest after losing 70 lbs. Anywho, the other night we had some new friends over for dinner and they asked who the picture was of. I told them that was me. The look on their face said enough, and then came my low point "Oh I would have never recognized that as you!" It totally wasn't a mean spirited comment, and as these people have only known me for a month or so (and I'm currently the heaviest I've EVER been) of course they wouldn't recognize that I had a skinny phase.
Skinny Shannon only seems to come out once every decade or so and she only tends to hang around for a few years. I sure wish I knew how to get her to be more of a people person! :)
So, no bueno was the moment that I realized I'm so fat that I'm unrecognizable. The crazy part is, I kind of don't care in a way. I care more about my HEALTH and FITNESS than about my WEIGHT. If that makes any sense. For the first time in almost my entire life, I'm comfortable enough with who I am that I say "take it or leave it" and I could care less what you chose. If you like me, like me for who I am and what I weigh. If you don't like me... any part... peace out and live long and prosper. I don't care.
Just because I'm at my fattest - doesn't mean I'm at my saddest. Which is a totally new concept in my 31 years of existence.
I've grew up believing that weight was directly related to emotional stability, joy or lack there of, intelligence, and beauty. And when I lost my weight the last time - I LEARNED A LOT. I learned that weight affects how I feel IN my body and how comfortable I am doing certain activities... but weight does not make me happy or sad. I chose those emotions. And right now, I'm really happy. I love my life. I don't love my body per se, but I love the person inside of it. It's not my intention to sound cocky or narcissistic in any way. I have my struggles. But as a 31 year old woman, I've learned to be my natural honest self and accept the positives. Loud, talkative, teachable, adventurous, structured, funny, tender, sensitive, dramatic.... the list goes on. Those are things that are natural to my spirit. Fat is just what my body is. And that can change, whenever I decide to make it change. I'm no happier in the top picture than I am in the bottom picture. The only difference is I liked that the outside felt like it matched the inside. And right now, the joy and zest for life I'm feeling on the inside... feels a little stifled by the exterior and the limitations my body has at this weight.

So here goes.

I'm attempting to get to ONEDERLAND. The first time I lost my weight I swore I'd never let my weight start with a #2 ever again. And here we are, my weight has been in the 2 ranges for over a year now. I almost got it down to onederland a few weeks after I had Owen and was nursing like crazy and didn't have the energy to eat. But that changed and the numbers bounced up as I have used food to manage the stress of my life changes since 2011. I've been soothing myself with food after a hard day with the kids. I also ate to spite people sometimes. Like when I know my weight is an "issue" with someone... I eat to make them mad. It's a control issue. And one trait I didn't list above is control freak. If there ever was a circus in town and hiring for the freakshow... I'd totally qualify to travel with the carnies as "The Control Freak of America." It's not necessarily a bad thing...
Anyway I'm making the choice to change my habits. It has to be MY choice. I also learned that the first time around.

So my goal is that by MAY 31 I'll be back into One-derland. That's roughly 3 lbs a week. Then we'll make new goals from there. It's a lot for my body to let go of 3 lbs a week. When I lost the weight the first time, it was slow. I averaged a 1-2 lb loss per week with a few good weeks of higher loss every few months. This goal is obtainable and realistic though as I plan to work very hard. Wish me luck and hard work. I need your support and encouragement.

... AND TWO ANGELS

Part One of this post is HERE:

We walked up, up, up a hill and I heaved and hoed the triple threat above the park and into a peaceful neighborhood overlooking the valley. I cried and felt sorry for myself for a few minutes and just kept walking. I wondered why I feel like I'm so bad at this mom gig and I replayed the situation over in my mind and wondered what I could have done to better the outcome. It sounds dramatic but my feelings were hurt. It felt a little like junior high all over again but the mom version - and I was the awkward mom in gym class who couldn't complete the assignment, while the cheerleaders looked on from the sidelines and watched me like a sinking ship. I know, I'm dramatic. But I just felt like I was trying to be a good mom and take my kids to the park, and I failed. What mom can't even do that right? Me.

In between my pity party and negative thoughts I finally looked up and saw two older women (early 70's maybe) walking my way, grocery bags in hand and smiles on their faces. They approached us with a delighted look and kindly struck up a conversation by mentioning how impressed they were that I was out walking with these three young children. They "Ooohhhd and Ahhhd" over all three kids and they were so kind to me. They asked where I was from and inquired about the close ages of my kids. Sweet words poured out of their mouths and every word they said was a perfect defense for all the negative thoughts I'd been strumming over in my mind minutes prior. They continued on their walk in the opposite direction as I, and the most clear "still small voice" whispered to me. Angels from heaven. Your Heavenly Father loves you and you are doing just fine. I cry as I type this because those feelings were so strong and just recalling them buoys me up. Those two women knew exactly what I needed to hear and who knows why they were walking that day or where they were going, but they were sent there for me. Heavenly Father sees our every struggle and our every triumph. He smiles with us and he weeps with us, even our simplest most worldly success like making it through the day with patience and playing with our kids instead of washing the sticky floors... he celebrates with us. He knows when our hearts ache and when we feel defeated. And when we feel like quitting, he sends his angels. Two angels to remind me that I'm doing OK, just keep going, keep loving, and keep living and it will all be OK.

After our walk we picked up Kday and went to Swig. And all was well.

THREE JUDGMENTAL MOMS

The idea for this post came to me after our first trip to SG early last month. It goes like this:
Kday and I discussed our plans for the day and I knew kday was itching to get out for a long ride with his buddies. I searched the www for a cool park to hit up with the kids while we waited for kday to return from his cycling adventure. We found this park, just south of SG by Bloomington and it didn't disappoint. However, it was my first time at a large park, solo with the kids. Let me preface this by stating that at this point in the game, I figured I've learned the ropes of how to manage the triple threat kids at a park. WRONG.

We get there, set up the blanket, snacks, get the kids sunblocked and hats on etc. As soon as Rider and Owen tear off in different directions, Layla notifies me that she needs to go potty. So I round up the boys and we all haul the100 yards over to the bathrooms. Owen is still crawling at this point of the trip so I hold him (so gross and I'm not going to let him crawl on the floor of a public bathroom) I stand Rider just inside the door and instruct him "don't touch anything" and I help Layla get her business done. Exit the bathroom, cue all three kids to again disperse in three different directions. And about three minutes later comes the announcement from Layla "I need to poop!" (And if you've ever met my first born - she goes into sheer panic mode when she realizes she needs to poop. I'm talking PaNiC!) Owen is at the top of the playground at this point, Rider is who knows where and Layla is in a poop panic. I tell her to just go by herself and I'll keep an eye on her. Here's where this little harmless trip to the park goes awry.
Keep in mind the bathrooms are about 100 yards from the playground and the play area is really huge and it's hard to even see your kids when they're on the opposite side, I'm alone and there are plenty of other mothers there. Cue the judgmental parents here: Layla starts screaming because her hand is stuck in the too heavy bathroom door and she can't get it out and she's still in a poop panic. Owen is now teetering at the top of the playground and about to fall 6 feet to the bottom of the fire pole drop off. And Rider is rummaging through someone else's diaper bag for food on the south end of the park. This quickly felt like a triage situation. So I run to the screaming child first and hope to heavens that someone will rescue my infant prior to plummeting like a baby bird out of his nest. Cue judgmental mom #1 who also runs to Layla's rescue and with the stank eye announces to me "Her fingers are stuck in the door and that's a really heavy door. It probably broke her fingers." Thank you for stating the obvious. I have no choice but to take Layla to the bathroom while I attempt to hold the door open and keep a visual on my other two children. Rider has now been "shooed away" by judgmental mother #2 and is about to get kicked in the face as he walks directly in front of the kids on the swings while he tries to make his way over to me. (not a single mom who is sitting inches away from him and is watching my struggle - even attempts to help Rider avoid a swift kick to the head) Meanwhile we wrap things up in the bathroom, Layla still screaming, Rider screaming because I won't let him swing and cue judgmental mother #3 who has rescued Owen from the ledge and brings him to me to say "He was about to fall and I couldn't find you anywhere to tell you to watch him closer."
Super.
Three screaming children and NOT a single mom steps in to say "Hey you look like you have your hands full... do you want any help?" At this point it feels like every single eyeball is fixated on my three ring circus of wailing humans and I felt about as big as a maggot. My insecurities are in full swing and I can't help but imagine that everyone is wondering "why on earth would this mom who so clearly doesn't know what she's doing have so many kids so close together. C'mon lady... space your kids out a little cuz you can't barely handle what you've got." At that moment I couldn't get the kids to the car fast enough, the stares continued as I carried (read: dragged by extremities) my crying children to the car and made three more trips back to the park area to round up my blanket, diaper bag, snacks, and other various mess that we'd left behind in the 15 minutes we'd been there.

I decided that a good mom knows when to quit. So I got out the triple stroller, piled the kids in and we walked away. We walked as far away as my legs could take us while pushing those three heavy babies away from the chaos and the judgmental looks. And while we walked... i cried.

To be continued:

weekend warrior

That's my boys - team work to escape from the doggy door. Awesome. 

I planned to write tonight. I have about 5 posts in mind. Lots to say. But I just finished updating Layla's blog for her birth-family as well as writing a lengthy update letter to Rider's birth mother. I also reviewed lots of photo's to send with the letter and now I'm exhausted. Mentally and physically. So... on Saturday I'll write. I'll write and write until there's enough to read for at least a week. I'm a weekend warrior.... because that's the only time I can find to get anything done - when Kday is here to corral the children. Team work baby!
xoxo

MORMON MIAMI 2013

Here's a little preview of our last trip down south. Our bedroom had floor to ceiling windows across an entire wall... this was my view each morning as I'd press the switch for the drapes to roll open.

More to come on our second trip to Mormon Miami...

MYSTERY STANK

This was what was found after I removed the kids car seats. Sick evidence of a good time.

Ever since the beginning of January - there's been a mystery smell in our car. It worsens when it's warm and fades in the cold. It's musty, dirty diaper, rotten milk, something rotting to death kind of smell. Nasty. In January I attempted to locate and destroy the odor - to no avail. It continued to loom about and it would surprise us with it's flare ups of stank. So last night I stripped the car to the core. I washed every square inch of that car - including the carseats, the actual car seats, floor mats, and every knook and cranny I could get my toothpick and cleaning toothbrush on. This morning I re installed the kids carseats and I hope that after a warm day today - I'll walk out into a non rotting car smell. Because really, aren't kids stinky enough? Who needs a rotting chicken nugget covered in rotten milk, covered in a rotting diaper to odorize your car?
Please let the mystery stank disappear.