Not Getting Easier...

I almost couldn't blog about this. It made me feel so sad that I wanted to cry.

Tonight I was giving Cooper and Ava a bath, and while I was undressing her, she told me that she loved me.

"I love you, too, Sis."

"I love you forever, Mommy....(then sad)....but you won't be here forever.....you're gonna die. We're all gonna die." (Now she's looking sadly at the ground.)

I am reaching down into my guts, at this point, grabbing that Mommy strength that surfaces when you just have to be strong and show your kids the right direction, even if you want to curl up and cry.

"Well Ava, you remember the Bible tells us that we'll all live forever with Jesus, right? (She nods.) So we will get to love each other forever.....okay?"

"Yeah, but not in this house."

"No Sis, not in this house."

She breaks my heart sometimes. The other day she told me that she never wanted me to die, like her fish. And while she said it, her bottom lip started quivering and her eyes filled with tears. So I did the only thing a Mommy can do. I looked her straight in the eyes and said, "Ava, Mommy will not die until you are a very, very old lady, okay? Not for long, long time." And then I said a silent prayer to God to please, please make that come true. I am not sure why that this child has cast her lot with me, like she has, but she needs me so much, and it makes me feel very, very vulnerable.

And now that I feel depressed, I'll share my other sad parenting moment. This time it was Aidan's turn. We went to McDonald's for lunch, he and Ava were in the Playland, and after a few minutes he came running to me, crying, because some little sh....boy didn't want to be his friend. My heart hurt for him, but I do not want him to allow others to manipulate him like that. He's so sensitive that it will be a long life if that's going to start now. I tried a very politically incorrect tactic.

"What do you mean he doesn't want to be your friend?!"

"He said, 'No,' and then he ran away from me!"

"Well, you just tell him that no one treats you that way, and that you are not going to play with him now. Don't let him make you cry. Doesn't he know that you're the coolest kid here?"

"But I'm not, Mom."

"Yes, you are! You are smart, and handsome, and lots of fun, and he must be dumb to not realize that. It's his loss, Aidan. You don't want to hang around a kid like that. Go play with your sister. She will always be your friend."

Then I found a seat a little closer to the Play Area. I'm not going to lie. I was hoping to stare down that stupid little kid, and make him afraid to be mean to Aidan. Or trip him. And yes, I am a bad person. But I am a kick ass mother, and no one messes with my kids. I don't care if you're 4 or 40.

Ava's Good Day

We may have found the perfect sport for Ava. Gymnastics. We got to Byrd's about 20 minutes early tonight, and so we were able to watch Ava finish up through the big picture windows. She was on the balance beam, and she was..... awesome. She was graceful, coordinated, and did exactly what the coach told her to do. She really stood out. I was so proud of her. I told Johnny that we have finally found a healthy outlet for someone who is tiny and fearless. And it's so much safer than snake-handling, or hunting, or any of the other crazy interests that this little child entertains. She hasn't made up her mind about tap, though. She told me before class tonight that "shuffles are really hard for a little girl like me". She was crying as she said it. Ava likes to be perfect at everything. It made me sad to hear her so frustrated, so I talked to Miss Lisa before class. Miss Lisa does not think Ava is struggling at all, but must have doled out some extra TLC because it's all good tonight. Daddy and I are so proud of you, Sis. You're so gutsy, and not afraid to speak your mind. Love you.

Where is the girl he married?

I am a buzzkill. Johnny and I are trying to plan a Spring Break adventure for our little tribe, and he said I was a "drag". "I am not a drag," is what I would have told him, (if I hadn't hung up on him). It's just this whole motherhood thing. It has changed me irrevocably, and for the better, I believe. But I'm just not as carefree as I used to be. I can't go to a hotel if Trip Advisor says things about it like "you get what you pay for". No. No, no, no. If I had to put one of my children to bed in a place where I was worried about their safety, or the cleanliness of the linens, or if I had to insist that they leave their socks on while walking in the room, I am going to have a miserable time. Once upon a time, when I was 22, some girlfriends and I went to Jamaica for week. It was definitely a "you get what you pay for" place. But at 22, that was fun. Hell, that was part of the adventure. We had windows with no screens, roaches in the bathroom, and questionable locals hanging around the lobby trying to sell us "ganja". But was I appalled? Nope. It was hilarious back then. Kodak moments. (Of course, I was drunk most of the time. Might not have been so funny if I sobered up.) But it was Spring Break, and I was about to graduate from college. Maybe that's what I need---10 pina coladas and a Red Stripe. Then I'll chill out and quit quoting Trip Advisor to my growing-less-tolerant spouse. I think we found a compromise though. Not a 4-star hotel, but a Holiday Inn with a free continental breakfast everyday. It's a suburban mom's dream come true. But I might pack our own linens. Just in case.

"Man up!"

Every day I learn more about parenting boys. It's not that being a mother to a girl is without challenges, but I feel better equipped to handle Ava and all of her girly baggage. I understand why she cries when we talk to her in the morning. I understand why Fancy Nancy books are so appealing. I know why alligator clips are best for custom-made hairbows. I get why having red toenails makes her smile. But I have to step out of my comfort zone when it comes to Aidan and Cooper. I'm glad to do it, though. I heard a basketball being dribbled in my kitchen yesterday, and it made me smile. Yes, it was so loud that I thought the ceiling was caving in on me, but I thought, 'There's a sound I may hear for many years to come.' They're just so different. How do boys instinctively know to say, "Vroom!" when they play with little cars? Why do they love to splash each other in the bath? (That just annoys me and Ava.) And why aren't they allowed to cry while playing sports?
This lesson presented itself on Saturday morning. Aidan got hit in the eye pretty hard by a basketball. They had to briefly stop the game because he was crying, so I went down on the court. The coach was standing next to me, and kept trying to redirect and distract Aidan, but I know my boy well enough to know that he was going to cry until we acknowledged his pain. So I gave him the once over, told him that I was sorry he got hurt, and to shake it off, and get back in the game. It went against most of my motherly instincts, but I didn't get any looks of disguist from the coach or the ref, so I assumed that I had passed the manly criteria of how to handle a sports-related injury.

Unspoken rule: If there's no blood or broken bones, act like it's no big deal and forget about it.

That was not easy for me. My instinct was to bring him up in the stands and sit him on my lap. Well, maybe I wasn't that worried, but you get the picture. Would a 5 minute time-out have so bad? Long enough that I could get him a drink, hug him, and let him stop crying? Apparently so. He was back in the game lickety split. He was still crying, but taking deep gulping breaths, and trying to be a man. And we wonder why they're so apt to hide their emotions? Oh well, another blog, another day. Anyway, I was pretty proud of myself until my stepdad called that night. He said that before long, I was going to have to quit kissing Aidan on the court in front of his friends. Oh these men,..... does it ever end?

I was happy about one thing, though. I had to leave and go see a patient in the 3rd quarter, and I walked by Aidan while I was leaving. In front of his whole posse he hugged me, kissed my cheek twice, and told me that he loved me. Later that night I asked him if I had embarrassed him when I unconsciously kissed him on the basketball court. He said, "No, Mommy. I wanted you to." (Thank you God, that he's five years old. I'm going to miss this.)

Grocery Store Finds...

It's been a while since we played Consumer Reports, so here goes:

I like to buy generic. I work part-time, and I prefer to keep it that way, so I have to find ways to save money. We eat a lot of cereal bars in this house. I have to be honest, though, I don't like them that much. But they're full of whole grains, not too high in sugar, and only have 140 calories, or something like that. I can also eat it in the car while I drive the kids to school. I feed them to Cooper for breakfast with a real fruit. Aidan and Ava eat them as snacks. I have always bought the WalMart brand until a few weeks ago when Ava asked to buy Nutri Grain bars because they came in a cherry flavor. The generics don't do cherry. So I bought them, and was disappointed to discover that they taste better. So this consumer is sad to report that saving $0.75/box was compromising on quality. Buy the Nutri Grain, they're worth it.
Our other cool find this week was V8 Fusion, Strawberry-Banana flavored. I bought this to give to Cooper because it seemed pretty healthy for a juice. Each 8 oz. boasts a full-serving of fruits and vegetables. I never dreamed that Aidan and Ava would like it----but they do! They're actually my pickier eaters. Coop will eat all his veggies right now, but not the dynamic duo. So everybody's drinking it, and I feel good about this. I have to say, though, I think it's gross. It tastes kind of...."thick", just like regular V8. There's also a distinct vegetable flavor that doesn't do it for me either. I like vegetables okay, I just don't want them to taste like a sweet liquid. But, in the words of my 5 year-old, "Mom, it's like drinking a Fruit Gusher!" Try it, we think you'll like it.

Sick Baby.

Cooper has a raging ear infection. The doctor said he had a blister underneath his eardrum. How awful does that sound? Here's the kicker....his mother, nurse of the year, didn't even realize he was sick. He was at the doctor for his "well child" checkup, and I told her that I thought he was developing pink eye again. As it turns out, Cooper has pus backed up in his sinus cavities, and it's now coming out of his eyes. Ewwww. He has never cried. He has never run a fever. Until today, when he was wiping green goo from his eyes, he never even acted like anything was wrong. Dr. Rita said, "Maybe you should bring him back in a week or two so I can re-examine him, especially since he seems so passive about it." At first I was alarmed, and then slightly irritated. Seriously Cooper, cut Mommy some slack. I don't routinely bust out an otoscope and assess the three of you, so you need to become somewhat symptomatic if you need medical attention. But after some thought I realized that I am doing it! I am creating the perfect husband for some lucky little baby girl! He has been sick for days probably, and not a whine or whimper out of him. You see, I'm always conscious of the fact that I'm not just teaching my children lessons so that I can live with them more easily, but I'm shaping the adults that they will become. And I take this especially seriously with my boys, as future husband material. Before these two boys leave my house, they will know how to cook, do laundry, and be respectful of everyone, especially women. I am not raising them to be waited upon. I want them to be self-sufficient. (They will also know how to beat the crap out of anyone who messes with them, but that's not my department. Neither is teaching Ava to change her own spare tire.) Aidan can testify how many times he has been sent to his room, for walking into my kitchen, asking what's for dinner, and then turning his nose up. That is just not tolerated. My hope is to drill into his precious little head, that if someone goes to the trouble to make him a meal, he will display gratitude, and that's all. Anyway, so I think Coop is just a step ahead of the game. He will never lie in bed like.....certain males that I know, and bitch and whine just because he has a sore throat. Cooper innately understands to suck it up and keep on going. Cooper is going to be a perfect mother someday.

(In the spirit of honest journalism, I should probably mention that Cooper will not be a martyr like his mother either.)

So I realize the blog has been Cooper-heavy lately. Aidan and Ava are still here. They've just been in semi-vegetative states where they watch Tom & Jerry, eat girl scout cookies, and sass me. It's hard for them to compete with a chubby baby who pulls his helicopter-on-a-rope around the kitchen and smiles all day. Example: Tonight I was trying to have alone time with each kid at bedtime. After chatting about preschool gossip for several minutes, I was feeling so warm, fuzzy, and close to Aidan. You know, the stuff that melts a mother's heart. Then he then looked up at me and said, "So are we gonna pray, or do you still need to talk?" He already thinks I'm needy. We're off to a great start, aren't we? Then there's my beautiful daughter. I refused to give her fruit snacks before dinner so she told me, "Because of what you just said to me, I am NOT YOUR FRIEND! Don't talk to me anymore!" See, no blog material there either.

Oh, I love these crazy kids so much. :)

Almost forgot Cooper's stats: 31 1/4" tall---90th percentile, 25 pounds---80th percentile. (This is Kansas. We grow'em big.)

Tribute to the Birthday Boy

Ten Things That Make Me Smile When I Think of Cooper

1. I love to hear you call your brother and sister by name, "Yaida" (Aidan) and "Yaiya" (Ava).

2. When I came home from work Saturday, you crawled all the way up the stairs, as fast as you could, and when you could throw your chubby little arms around my neck, you finally said, "Hi!"

3. I adore how you point at things that you want, and then babble at us as if you're speaking perfectly clear English, and why on earth don't we understand?

4. I love to hear your Daddy say that you are the cutest thing ever. He is quite taken with you.

5. Every time you take a bite of food, you smile and say, "Hmmmm!"

6. You have the chubbiest cheeks ever.

7. I love that when I pick you up at the Y, you run to me, grab hold of me, and then immediately start waving 'Bye Bye' to the ladies who babysit you.

8. My favorite word, "Mum!"

9. Everyone who meets you comments on what a sweet disposition you have.

10. I love that you say "Bad Baby!" when you're doing something that you're not supposed to.

Happy 1st Birthday Coop! You have made our family whole. I love you forever.

Cooper's Birthday Party!

Sunday was Cooper's birthday party. We had a smallish family party, about 16 people. Being the Cheesy Party Planner that I am, I took our cowboy theme and ran with it. Coop had on his Baby Dude Ranch outfit from Carter's. Our party favors were Chocolate Chex mix that we named Cooper's Cowboy Chow, and we packaged it inside of red bandanas.

This is Coop's HyVee cake. (I've got to take a cake decorating class. It's on my 2009 to-do list.)


Tyson likes Cooper to sit on his lap. Tyson thinks he's a grown-up, instead of 6 months older than his baby cousin.

Coop loved the cake. My kids don't play around when it comes to sugar. There is none of that crazy, first birthday "cake in the hair, on the floor, baby needs a bath" going on. The cake went straight into his mouth, and really no where else. He kept saying, "Mmmm!" He also ate his first Pig in a Blanket. Such an American first---I stuffed my one-year-old full of a processed meat filled with nitrates. Dr. Rita would probably not approve.




Aidan was the photographer for half of the day. We don't have a Nickie/Traci/Jessica-caliber camera, so when he asked to take pics, we just handed it over. (And in the back of my mind, I'm thinking, 'If he breaks it, I'm going to get a NickieTraciJessica Special!) The reason I mention this, is because people make some funny faces when a five-year-old is behind the lens. These are being posted to entertain my sister. Here's a few of Aidan's shots:

Uncle Mat--"Hey buddy, whatcha doing?"

Cousin Tyson--(Finally, a little person controlling the camera! Power to our people!)

Uncle Ryan---"Does your mother know you have her camera? Dude, I could break you!"

Aunt Imola---"Hi Aidan, Sure I'll smile for you!"
(FYI, My brother Mat and Imola got married in Jamaica last month.)

Grandma Diane---"Ha Ha! Your mom's going to get you!"

Oma and Grandpa---(Rare P.D.A.)

Megan, this is our father. I don't know how he made his face look like this, but Aidan snapped the pic, then said, "Gee Papa, that was kind of a scary picture."

And a special thank you to my sister and Aaron. They are living 12,000 miles away, and have the best excuse to opt out of parties, holidays, and get-togethers, yet they never do. They always call, despite the 13 hour time difference. And they always send a gift, which is totally unnecessary, but so thoughtful of them. They are making a huge effort to remain plugged-in to their families, and we love you guys, and your effort is cherished. Your niece and nephews barely realize that you're gone because of your efforts. It's almost like you're around every day. (But, we still missed you guys yesterday!)
Meg, here's the replay of Coop opening your gift----the cutest Robeez ever! Not as good as his first, "Oooooh!" But it's his way of saying, "Thanks!"

Parenting in Restaurants: Bring Your "A" Game.

Tonight we took the kids to Carino's for dinner. Carino's is an italian restaurant at the Legends. This is a rare treat for us. We rarely go out anymore unless it's pizza or fast food. That is because we find those kind of places to be noisier in general, and we attract less attention. Also, any place that requires waiting for food is simply tempting the natives to do their worst. Tonight, they were.....not too bad. (It's all relative, of course. A childless couple might have run screaming from the room.) Prior to having kids, Johnny and I ate out two to three times a week. We had quiet meals, we talked. It was nice. We always sat on the same side of the table so that we could be next to each other, instead of across from each other, like some couples do. It was kind of romantic/sweet. It's a little different now. If I had to label it, I'd call it Tag Team Dining. We sit on opposite sides of the table so that we can each "man" a child, or two. Kind of a zone defense, I guess, since adding Cooper to the mix. It's an unwritten rule that if you get up to go the the bathroom, you have to ask everyone at the table if they need to go. And they always do. Much to my chagrin, my kids have a fascination with all public restrooms. Johnny got up and took Aidan and Ava with him. Does Ava go in the men's restroom, one might wonder? I don't know. I have never asked. By 6:30pm, Mommy has switched into survival mode, and as long as Johnny returns to the table with her, I don't care if they've been running laps around the restaurant. It's not like I sit at the table while they're gone, pining for them. I was on Cooper duty. Cooper was coming unglued because the bus boy had a broom. Cooper loves brooms. He is fascinated by dustpans as well. He kept pointing at it, ordering me around (I'm sure) in baby gibberish, and then trying to get out of his high chair to claim what he thinks is rightfully is. After everyone was seated again, we had a discussion about proper dinner table conversation. This was initiated after Ava loudly announced that she was "dwibbling" and "needed to wipe gooder". That's what happens when you send a Daddy to do a Mommy's job. The good news is, everyone finished their food , and we even had dessert. No one spilled anything. We laughed a lot. Ava only ate one piece of bread that she dropped on the floor. The kids only went under the table once, and it was presumably to retrieve the red crayon. No one cried. I heard "please" and "thank you" more than once. We had a fantastic time. They were almost civilized.

So why am I so tired?

Guilt.

Cooper puts up with a lot. Aidan and Ava love that little boy, but they haven't figured out the best way to express it. (Yeah, let's go with that.) Ninety percent of the time, they cuddle him, kiss him, and do anything they can to hear his deep, baby belly laugh. But that other ten percent of the time, I could sell them to gypsies. Tonight was rough. Cooper got "accidentally" knocked down a lot. Cooper got hugged/squeezed a little tighter than love dictates. Cooper got his fat, little cheeks pinched. Cooper had had enough. I kept hearing his sad cries, and then, "Mum! Mum!" Cooper doesn't call me "Mama" or "Ma", like the other two did as babies. He talks like a little English boy. "Mum." And I'm not sure how, but when he's done saying it, his lower lip is sticking out, and it's so cute that I could eat him. Needless to say, I yelled way too much tonight. Johnny is working nights, so it was just the four of us, and I reach my boiling point faster than usual when the mischief involves hurting someone. At bedtime, I sat down with each of the bigger kids, and had a long discussion about why it's not okay to hurt Cooper, or play so rough with Cooper. Aidan was very ashamed. He almost cried. He kept saying, "I'm sorry, Cooper." Not "I'm sorry, Mommy," but Cooper. That made me feel like he meant it. He wasn't just trying to appease me. With Ava, (sigh)....I could write a book about Ava. Every argument I had was met with resistance or denial. Finally, out of sheer desperation, I told her that if she was going to live in Daddy's and my house, she was going to be kind to people. Did she want to live with a new family? (Could I say anything more horrible to a child who probably feels threatened by a baby sibling? Yes, I screwed up. Didn't faze her much, though.) She calmly looked me in the face and said,

"Well, I think I'm going to buy my own house as soon as I get big."

Alrighty then. Could I suck any more at this? Tonight I'll be rereading all of my Christian parenting books, looking for phrases like "willful child" and "nothing to do but pray". But having said that, she is such a doll sometimes. Today at lunch she demanded to smell and touch my arm. This child smells me at least five times a day. She usually says, "You smell like a yummy mommy!" Johnny asked her, "Don't you want to smell my arm?" She told him, "No thanks, just smelling Mommy today!" Honestly, she is much more attached to me than the boys. The boys love me, but they love Johnny just as much. They adore being with their Daddy. With Ava, it's always been all about me. And she's very possessive of me......and wow, I just worked out an answer to a problem while blogging. I guess I just had to see it in writing. Part of me wants to cry right now. I think we need to step up the Mommy and Ava alone time. I don't feel like a very good mother tonight.

No Secrets.

Today I got an email from my son's future mother-in-law. She said that Aidan had sent home a love letter with Audrey. Then she scanned it, attached it, and emailed it to me.

This is 21st century parenting people. Gotta love it. I wonder how long I'll be able to continue this blog without being censored by The Blessings.

He also fancies the toilet plunger.

Our house is overflowing with brightly colored pieces of plastic labelled "Fisher Price", riding toys, dolls, puzzles, musical instruments, balls, stuffed animals, basketball goals, pretend toys, remote-controlled cars, plastic wild animals, home depot for kids' tools, a tool bench, a pretend kitchen, dress-up clothes, toys guns, books, 2 large stuffed fish, exersaucers, dolly strollers, light sabers, swords, guns that shoot targets, and unfortunately, this list goes on, and on, and on.

Word for the Day:

Irony (n.) = The definition of irony, in the simplest form, is the difference between what someone would reasonably expect to happen and what actually does. Example: Cooper's favorite thing to play with in the whole house is the fly swatter.

Shear Madness!

Somebody got a haircut! We decided that although long hair was fun, Ava is almost too tiny to pull it off yet. It was hiding her pretty face too much. And now, she's thrilled to report, she will not get pancake syrup in her hair while eating breakfast. Yea!

Ministries that Matter

I received this email 2 days ago.

Hi, Cori.

I would like to share something with you that is very near and dear to my heart.. I lead a ministry at (deleted), and just took that ministry online a few days ago. For privacy reasons, I am using a pen name on the blog.... I wanted to ask you if you would share this blog with those in your email address book and also consider adding it to your blog roll. To fend off questions, my friend had the great idea of adding it to her blog roll, and also posting a note that she has never experienced sexual abuse but is helping spread the word about her friend's ministry... The blog has received nearly 40 hits in a day and a half, so I'm hopeful that it will become regularly visited by many. Thanks for considering it.

http://victoryoversexualabuse.blogspot.com/

After I looked at this courageous woman's blog, I had to link it up. She really wants to make a difference and help others. Please pray for her new endeavor. But it didn't feel right to just add it to the Mommy Blogroll, "Friends and Family", so I've started a new Link List. I'm going to call it "Ministries that Matter". And while I'm linking up my fellow blogger, I'm going to add one of my fave's as well, World Vision.

http://www.worldvision.org/

In 2001, Johnny and I "adopted" this precious little 3 year-old boy named Andres. It doesn't cost much. It's about the equivalent of eating out once a month. (Oh no. I sound like Sally Struthers, don't I?) Worldwide, World Vision has proven itself to be a very reliable charity. They are making a difference in other countries that I can't make from the carpool lane at Language Lane. But I can help them financially.

Our monthly support pays Andres' school tuition, religious education, medical care, as well as supports community programs that help Andres' parents such as agricultural training and learning a trade. Occasionally WV will ask for an additional donation to buy Andres something, like a Bible for Easter. We send him cards for his birthday (which is coming up!), and all major holidays. Aidan and Ava know who he is, and we pray for him often. We get a letter about once a year telling us how he is doing, and a new picture. This is Andres last Fall. He's almost 11 years old now.

We were very upset to learn that Andres has become deaf in the last year as the result of an illness. We don't know if it's reversible or not, because he just casually mentioned it to his interpreter in his letter to us. He's such a boy-----no details. We love him, though. I think of all things that can make a difference in this world, nothing is as important to me as investing in the life of a child, my own, and others'.

Our Almost One-Year-Old

Cooper is exceptionally charming lately. He says 7 words: Mum, Dad, hello, Aidan, cracker, and "bad baby". He can imitate Santa, a duck, and a monkey. He pretends to answer a phone. He loves to sit on his sister's bed and swing his chubby, little legs while he watches her dance around. He waves "bye bye" to everyone. And he has these little curls at the back of his neck that make me kiss him there everytime I see them. We love you so much, Coop.

Cowboy Cooper is not cooperating.

Parenting mistake #3,200,967: I set the bar too high with the first child. Aidan had a blow out first birthday party, and I scrapbooked the whole thing. It was a Sesame Street party; here's a few pics...

This was one of the takes for his "invitation shot". I think we wrote "Our little pumpkin is turning one", or something equally cheesy.

Sesame-themed tables...
I kept up with Ava's 1st bday, "Pink Poodles in Paris". I also scrapbooked the whole thing. I should probably add that my version of scrapbooking is taping pictures or important papers to a piece of paper. I don't do the cutesy cutouts, die-cuts, captions, etc. I use up all of the creativity that I have on this blog, and I don't really have the patience for serious scrapbooking. But the point is, Ava will grow up, look at her scrapbook, and feel as equally loved as our firstborn.

This little pic of a beret-wearing Ava was tied to a box of truffles with "Merci!" written on the tag---I'm very in to party favors.

Then there's Cooper. Cooper is nervous in large crowds. He loves everyone, but in small groups. So I decided Coop's bday would be family only. He'll be happier, and I will be able to get more done without him attached to my pant leg. So technically, an invitation is not really needed. But I could not have him see the extraordinary fuss that I made over his brother and sister, and think that he got the short end of the stick. So I picked a theme "Cowboy Birthday", a menu (Cowboy Chili & Pigs in Blankets), a favor (can't blog it---it's a surprise!), and then came the invitation. I had a great idea, and in my head Cooper is wearing a cowboy hat and a big smile. Here's the text:

Cowboy Cooper is turning one,

So mosey on over and have some fun!

January 18, 2009

4pm

@ The Ingram Ranch

Yes, I know how corny it is. And, if I didn't realize it, my husband's howls of laughter would have convinced me. But it's cute, and kitschy, and I love it.

But like all good ideas, the execution is trickier than I imagined. Cooper, as it turns out, hates cowboy hats, and has control issues like his.....mother. He would only smile at the camera when he'd managed to rip the hat off of his head. I was so frustrated...

He is trying to suffocate my inner Martha. He can't be the only kid without cute party invitations! I'm not a slacker parent! (Well, not when it comes to parties, anyway.) I want him to have a cute scrapbook like Aidan and Ava. (It has always been a personal goal of mine for all 3 children to have equally completed baby books and scrapbooks. None of that "only the firstborn gets the good stuff" in this family.) But after 20 minutes, much frustration, and many tears on his part, I gave up. Sort of.

Well, it's not the invitation picture that I envisioned, but sometimes you gotta take what you can get, and run with it.

I wish he were old enough to understand that I still won. Nobody messes with my inner Martha. (Not to worry, I'm seeking professional help.)

I think I'm scared of them...

Aidan: Mom, someday I'm going to survive without you.

Me: What does that mean?

Aidan: Survive? That means to keep on living.

Me: Yes, Aidan, I know the definition of survive. I mean, why on earth did you say that to me?

Aidan: I don't know. Just kidding, I guess.

How is he in preschool? It's like living with a tiny philosopher sometimes. But one that makes us want to sleep in shifts.

I wanted to tell him, "Yeah, good luck with that. Your Dad hasn't figured out how to survive without me for more than 8 hours at a time."

Hard Night

Cooper is 349 days old. He has slept through the night twice in 349 days. And by "slept through the night", I mean he slept until 5 or 6 am. So last night when he started fussing at midnight, Johnny zipped past me and attempted to let him cry it out. (Stupid "let's have a united front" philosophy.) He used his "scary Daddy" voice and kept ordering him to "be quiet and go to sleep!" Cooper was enraged. Who in the hell did Daddy think he is? This is the part where Mommy caves and picks him up. He's so smart. I think he sensed my agony at listening to him cry because he started whimpering my name between tears, "Mum....mum...". I laid on my side and tried not to be physically sick. Johnny came and laid down next to me and patted my back. I think he did this for two reasons. He was trying to comfort me. He knew it was ripping my heart out to hear Cooper cry for me. And another part of him wanted to keep one hand on me, to prevent me from getting up to go get the little squatter who keeps finding his way on to my pillow at 4am every night. At one point he tried to make a joke and said, "Don't you just hate him?" I just quietly answered, "No, I think I hate you." I don't, of course, because I know he's right. But I just cannot bear to hear that baby cry. I don't know what has happened to me. I was so textbook "good parent" with the first two and their sleeping habits. I think I have Last Baby Syndrome.

Team Edward...until I get a life.

I'm now reading the 4th book of the Twilight series, "Breaking Dawn", and it's turning me into a preteen girl. I am pathetic. These books are becoming an unhealthy, intoxicating addiction for every person who reads them. I think about them constantly! Stephenie Meyer has a way of writing that draws you in, and makes you fall in love with a vampire. I cannot even believe that I just typed that. But it's not just me. I got a call today at 2pm from my sister, that's 3AM Singapore time. Do you know what we discussed? We discussed why Bella would kiss Jacob, and break Edward's heart, and then we discussed how angry we were at the situation for about 5 minutes. Um, Cori, Megan.....these people are FICTIONAL. Oh, yes. We keep forgetting. Look at the shirt I'm going to buy:I'll be the coolest girl at Bunco in my Team Edward shirt. That's where the other addicts live, in my Bunco group. And I've already figured out what I'll do when I finish the series. I'll start reading all of the websites that I'm so carefully avoiding in case of spoilers. You see? What has happened to me? I wasn't this stupid when I was 14! I haven't loved a fictional character since Maverick in Top Gun. But that was 1986. I just have no excuse this time.

Today Ava told me that she wants to grow up so that she can wear a bra and eat peanuts, if Dr. Rita says it's okay. (Ava is allergic to peanuts.) I once told someone that I hoped Ava would outgrow her allergy, and apparently she was listening. My semi-feminist mind was ashamed. My daughter's highest aspirations at this point consist of eating peanuts and wearing lingerie. Could we set the bar any lower? Is this my fault because I'm obsessed with vampires and Edward Cullen? Should I just start skipping nap and settle in on the couch to watch soap operas with her? I'm really glad that the women's liberation movement was largely before our time, because Ava and I are turning the clock back. Sorry, Gloria.

The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives...

New Year's Eve was Johnny's 30th birthday. Want to know how old and domesticated we have become? We had an awesome party, yet were still in bed by 11:30. (Be quiet, Megan.)

Ed, Johnny, and Clint.

Johnny giving Traci a field sobriety test. (I know, I know...those wild and crazy troopers.)

The ladies racing on MarioKart

(Sorry Leslie, Johnny couldn't get you in the shot).

My handsome 30 year-old husband.

Aaron, Dusty, and Johnny.

We spent the whole day de-Christmas'ing our house. Everyone stayed in their pajamas. And while I was un-decorating, I was mulling my New Year's resolutions. I love making NY resolutions. I love the whole "clean slate" feeling, like anything is possible. Last year I decided my resolution would involve being less judgmental. Anyone who regularly reads this blog probably knows how that one turned out. Now that I'm older and wiser, I think I'm going to count being judgmental as one of my strengths. (In other words, I think it'd be easier to lose 20 pounds than change certain facets of my personality.)

Here's what I did come up with:

1. Spend one-on-one time with each child daily, doing something that they enjoy, even if it's only for 10 minutes. I laid on the floor and colored with Ava the other day for about 15 minutes, and she was over the moon. Why don't I do that more often? Tonight I played Wii with Aidan for about half an hour. I don't love video games much, but I do love that little boy.

2. Complete a professional athletic event, either a triathlon or a run. I dropped out of training for a triathlon when I got pregnant with Cooper, and I've always wondered if I'd have completed it. My friend Kristen really wants to do a tri this year, so I'm thinking about it... (Oh yes, this is assuming that I do enough Kegels to undo the damage Cooper inflicted upon my bladder.)

3. Start and finish a bible study. I'm really good at starting them, but tend to stop after a month or so.

I also have a short unpublishable list that includes being nice to two people that annoy me, and some minor vanity issues. Oh, it's so hard to be a good person sometimes.

Speaking of unpublishable, I almost posted a wicked blog yesterday. Luckily, the precious love of my life apologized for his Y chromosome and all that is attached to it. (My words, not his.) But in the name of honest journalism, I can't let him totally escape. If I can write a whole post about how much I love him, I think he can handle this. I'm not into "pretty picture blogging". Of course, since it's my blog, you only get to hear my side of the story, but too bad for him. If you want a list of my faults, he'll have to invent Daddy's Outlet. I'm not letting Johnny take this fall alone, though. I have numerous girlfriends who voice the same complaints to me everyday. So on behalf of myself and my pals, here's a creed that we would like to laminate and wallpaper our house with:

You are not doing your wife a favor when you take care of your children. She does not deserve attitude just because you have had them in your care all day. You do not deserve to be rewarded or praised for bathing them, dressing them, or feeding them. If you are wise, do not ever say things like, "But I've already changed his diaper twice today." If you are really keeping score of such things, you must know that you are losing. As mothers, we realize how exhausting they are, and we will not be erecting a statue in your honor just because you do a better job co-parenting than Ward Cleaver did in 1950.

Okay, scores settled. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a blog. Bring on 2009.