101 Reasons Why I’m Going To Miss Babyhood

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For the better part of the past 6.5 years we have had a baby in our family. In less than two weeks, however, that is all going to change forever. With Hannah’s first birthday just a few days away now, we are about trade in babyhood for toddlerhood…and then toddlerhood for childhood…and I’m just not ready to think about what comes after that. And, since this is our LAST baby, these are my last days of experiencing the day-to-day of babyhood. I’m going to miss this stage of babyhood, and here are (more than) a few reasons why:

  1. You are literally their whole world.
    Their world starts and ends with you–if parents weren’t so stinkin’ tired all the time, we might develop a god-complex. As it stands, anything and everything they want, need, or perceive as wanting/needing is provided by you. Food? Check. Clean diapers? Check. Midnight cuddles? Check, check, and check.
  2. They can’t talk back.
    No sass, no attitude, no problem.
  3. …Or get into mischief.
    At least when they’re really little and immobile. Then they start moving and all bets are off. But those first few weeks? Pure bliss!
  4. They eat FREE food!
    I’m talking about breastmilk here. Yes, I know that not all families can or even want to breastfeed their babies and that’s totally fine! For those that do, however, there is a non-stop source of free baby nutrients available 24/7, no special equipment or preparation required. There have been days that I’ve fantasized about being able to feed my whole family with the same ease–no grocery shopping, no food prep, no cooking dinner during the witching hour, nobody complaining about what’s been prepared or throwing their food on the floor/ceiling/dog, no dishes. What kind of a magical world would that be?
  5. …and they feed the dog!
    Our dog’s favorite place in our house is directly under the baby’s high chair during feeding times. Our dog was also advised at her last vet visit to go on a diet.
  6. They are super easy to entertain.
    Who needs play dates or iPads when peek-a-boo is the greatest past time ever invented and a box of Ziploc baggies can provide 30 minutes of piqued curiosity?
  7. Diapers.
    Yeah, diapers are kinda gross. But do you know what’s grosser? Potty training a toddler. Toddler poop in undies, toddler poop on the bathroom floor, toddler poop smeared on the walls, toddler poop in the carseat…you get the idea. Thank God for diapers and their swift and secure containment properties.
  8. Their clothing is precious.
    All the tiny shoes and tiny hats and sweet little things. Hannah wore a baby bikini last weekend and I about died, it was so cute. It should be noted that I also tried wearing a bikini last weekend. I just about died, but not because it was so cute.
  9. Pinching those cute, chubby cheeks.
    Both sets of them.
  10. Baby laughs.
    If someone were to record a bunch of babies giggling and put it all together into an album, they would win all the Grammys. True story.
  11. Nap time.
    I’ve been lucky enough to have three excellent nappers. Now that neither of my boys naps anymore, I realize the value of a solid naptime (for baby’s health and Mommy’s sanity). I heart you, nap time–don’t ever leave me!
  12.  The softness.
    Everything on a baby–their skin, their hair–is just so soft. This softness is in sharp contrast to my “big kids” who are quite often covered in literal sticks and prickles.
  13. The wonder.
    Everything a baby sees is new and amazing. I wish I could see the world through a baby’s eyes.
  14. Ease of transport.
    Babies just go with you wherever you’re going–they don’t have any choice in the matter and, for the most part, they just roll with it. No 5-minute warnings or hour-long shoe hunts before you can leave the house: Just get up and go. Try doing the same thing with a toddler or a preschooler or a teenager and you may meet with some resistance (i.e. temper tantrums).
  15. They’re small.
    Babies are compact enough to sleep in a drawer or a spare closet, which definitely comes in handy when you’re hosting house guests or trying not to pay for an extra bed in a hotel.
  16. Bath time.
    Also known as “bathroom exfoliation”–after bath time I wipe down all of the surfaces in the bathroom that got covered in water splashed out during baby’s bath. The result: a sparkling clean bathroom, every bath day (because we all know that I’m not cleaning any bathrooms on my own precious time).
  17. Bedtime routine.
    The 10 minutes I spend rocking the baby before bedtime are often the only quiet 10 minutes I have during the day. I relish this time, and may continue sneaking into the nursery for “bedtime” long after the baby has moved out.
  18. The Sickies.
    When babies get sick, it’s sad…and sweet. Because when babies are sick, they cuddle and snuggle and make you feel needed in the best way. When other people get sick (ahem…husbands…) their pleas for attention are somehow not quite so sweet and endearing.
  19. They bring out a different side of us.
    People can not help but to behave differently around babies. They are more tender, more gentle, more protective. Watching my sons and my husband interact with our baby this year has shown me a different side of them that makes them even more endearing to me. Babies make everyone better.
  20. – 101. This is the only time they’ll be babies.
    I will miss babyhood simply because it is babyhood. This is the only time in the entire span of their lives that my children will ever be in this stage. As they grow and mature, they will become new people–fantastic, amazing, bigger people–but they will never be these people, these baby people, again. And for that reason alone, I want to remember these moments and capture them in my heart and my mind. These are fleeting moments, and I will cherish them.

So, to my baby and my not-so-babies-anymore, I love you. I love who you are now, I love who you once were, and I love who you are becoming. I’m so excited and proud to be on this journey through life with you, no matter what stage we find ourselves in.

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The Storm

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The Short Story (Because brevity is bliss):

We had a storm last week and it was craaaaaazy.

The Long Story (Because I want to remember the whole story so I can tell it to my kids some day when all they remember about this ordeal is that they got to stay up late and eat ice cream in the dark after we’d already brushed teeth. And because I suck at brevity.):

Last Tuesday, January 10, actually started off quite fantastically. We have a tradition in our neighborhood that whenever a child from our community has a birthday, we gather at their house in the morning for a celebratory breakfast before starting the day. We had one such birthday on Tuesday, and I’m not one to complain when I’m served sizzling meats and birthday cake before 8:00 AM. After dropping the boys off at school, I took Hannah to her first baby-and-me music class. Also wonderful.

There was no problem at all until I got home from the music class and realized that the “atmospheric river” the meteorologists had been warning us about was reaching it’s max capacity. We were in the midst of one of the biggest winter storms I’ve ever witnessed, and that’s saying something.

Now, I grew up in Seattle. I know rain. I’ve seen every manner of rain and lived to tell the tale. This rain, however, was different. This was dark, brooding skies, incessant sheets of rain, and strong gusts of wind. Making matters worse, we live in a narrow mountain canyon, literally on the edge of a creek (and by “on the edge” I mean close enough that the boys pee off our back deck into the water, and by “creek” I mean that the storm had turned it into an insanely full, about to spill over, raging river.).

By the time I picked up the boys from school in the afternoon, I could tell there would be problems. Tree branches littered the streets and a few large rocks had rolled down the canyon walls outside our house. Things were getting wet and wild, and I cancelled our afternoon plans in favor of hunkering down inside our safe, warm house.

That night Jon had to work late, so I put the boys to bed and went upstairs to begin a night of bingeing on all of the shows Jon refuses to watch with me on the basis of “risks to his masculinity” (Call The Midwife and The Crown were on the agenda). I was about to cut into a pan of brownies when there was a loud crashing sound, followed by darkness. Utter and complete darkness.

It’s hard to describe the kind of dark that it gets in our house when the power goes out suddenly in the middle of the night during a storm. Since we live in a canyon, there’s already no external light–no distant streetlights, no ambient light from the city, not even moonlight reaches the canyon floor. In those first moments, it was so dark that I literally could not see my hand in front of my face. Thankfully, I was prepared for a power-outage (we’d already had one for a few hours 2 days before when the storm was just getting started), so I fumbled my way over to the kitchen counter where I had stashed a few flashlights.

I turned on my light and went to check on the kids, but the loud crash had woken the boys up and they were already on their way upstairs. Since the boys were awake and now WIRED, I decided to let them stay up and play for awhile so I could try to figure out what to do. My first instinct was to leave. After all, we live in a narrow mountain canyon with a quickly rising creek in the middle and steep muddy walls on either side–not exactly the ideal place to be during a raging storm with a power outage.

I set about packing overnight bags for us and called Jon at work to let him know what was happening (read: I called Jon to freak out and completely lose my mind.). I was about to go wake up the baby for our great escape when I got word from a neighbor that no escape would be possible. That loud crash I’d heard? Yeah, that was a mudslide and the only road out of the canyon was now blocked by a ginormous downed tree, splintered power poles, and live electrical wires. There would be no leaving…for awhile.

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The mudslide damage on our street in the canyon

For the next few hours I attempted to look calm and excited about our little “adventure” in the storm while I continued to fret internally at the possiblity of our house either (A) Being wiped out by another mudslide (B) Having the roof crushed by another ginormous tree making its way down the hill or (C) Being washed away by the raging river outside our back door.

The boys loved that I let them stay up after bedtime to eat all of our ice cream…after all, I didn’t want it to melt during the power outage and go to waste. When people ask the boys how the storm was or what we did all week, they always answer the same thing: Ice cream. The only thing they remember about this whole crazy week was that we ate ice cream in the dark.

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Eating ice cream in the dark

I finally gave up on the idea of trying to get out of the canyon that night and realized that we were just going to have to lay low in our own dark house. I made myself a bed on the floor of the boys’ room and laid down with them until they finally fell asleep around 11:30.

Shortly after, at about midnight, Jon made it home and I got my first report from “the outside”. There was another mudslide on Highway 17, the only road we can take to get to our mountain, and he’d been stuck in traffic for hours before he finally snuck past the barricade during the workers’ break. Once he got to the canyon, he couldn’t drive down our road because of the downed trees. He parked about a mile up the road and walked in…in the total darkness, with no light, and stepping over the (hopefully no-longer live) wires that were strewn across the road.

We got our first glimpse of the damage once there was daylight the next morning (Wednesday). Several men from our community were already out in the street with chainsaws working to clear the downed trees off the road. The power company, PG&E, arrived on scene a bit after 8:00 and began to assess the damage. In total, 7 power poles (including the one directly in front of our house) had been knocked down and needed to be replaced. This would not be a quick fix.

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Power pole down in front of our house.

Since Jon’s car was already parked on the other side of the mudslide, he was able to walk back out of the canyon and go to work on Wednesday morning. I, however, was still trapped at our house. David’s school was cancelled anyway, so we just hung out inside the house reading books and sitting by the fireplace.

Wednesday afternoon we got word that the trees had been cleared off the road, and anybody who would like to have access to the world outside the canyon should move their cars out of canyon now before they closed the road again to begin electrical work. Since there were still mudslides on Highway 17 that were intermittently closing down the road, I decided to just park my car outside of the community but stay put.

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Walking back home from our car–we had to park about 20 minutes (at kid pace) away from our house.

Even though being stuck in a house without power isn’t ideal, it still beats being stuck on a Highway with a car full of kids for hours on end with no way to get off the highway (this has happened to us before, and it is a scene from a horror movie that I do not chose to ever repeat.). Turns out this was a good call–most people I know who left the canyon took 3-5 HOURS to drive the 3 mile stretch on Highway 17 between the last exit in town and our exit. No thank you, very much.

We spent the rest of the day Wednesday staying out of the way of the PG&E crews that had taken over the street, visiting our neighbors (some of whom ended up in the emergency room with suspected carbon monoxide poisoning from the fumes coming off their generator), cooking meals on our BBQ, NOT using water (because our community water pump doesn’t work without power = no filtration, and no way to purge sewage…ewwwww….), napping (Hannah) and going completely bonkers from being stuck inside all day (Boys. And me. Mostly me.). With the mudslide commute, Jon got home around midnight again. The rest of us were already asleep huddled around the fire in my bedroom.

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Our home within our home…sleeping bags around the fireplace.

Thursday was pretty much the same as Wednesday. Still no power, still no way to get off the mountain.

By Friday we still didn’t have power, and I was starting to lose it. We’d all been living, playing, eating, and sleeping in one room, because that one room was the only room with a fireplace…and heat is a good thing when it’s 35 degrees outside. Since we were all sleeping in one room, that meant I was doing very little “sleeping” and much “tending to children who woke up in the middle of the night” so that they wouldn’t wake up the rest of the room. Plus, I was still nervous about the whole tree-falling-on-our-house-or-washing-away-in-a-river possibility. After 3 straight nights of no sleep, I was SPENT. Like, really, really over this whole storm adventure thing.

By Friday morning they seemed to have the mudslide situation on Highway 17 under control, so I made quick to get the heck off of our mountain. I was beyond excited to finally re-enter civilization! My cell phone had been perpetually out of battery for the last 3 days (which is a bit disconcerting when it’s your only link to civilization and emergency help should you need it), and the only way I could charge it was to go plug it in to my car for a few minutes at a time. On the agenda: finding a place where I could charge my phone and get something warm to drink.

As soon as I dropped the boys off at school, I drove over to the closest Starbucks ready to get my charge-and-drink on. When I walked in, however, my dreams of recharging disappeared. Every single chair, booth, and table was already full. I even asked a few different people if I could sit at their tables, and I got denied each time. Under normal circumstances I would have just brushed this off and moved on with my day. But this?  This was not a normal circumstance.

I’d been scared and stuck in a cold, dark house for almost 4 days with 3 young children. I needed a warm place to sit and charge my dang cell phone. Nobody would make room for me. I’d just been through one of the most stressful weeks of my life, and nobody cared. Nobody here even seemed to notice. It was, shall we say, the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I burst into tears and stormed out of Starbucks (baristas, by the way, love it when their customers grab their drink, randomly burst into tears, and then storm out of the store.).

Then I did what any rational adult would do in this situation: I called my mom. I was done being the “strong” grown up, and I just needed to cry with my mommy. I have no regrets. She totally talked me off the ledge and made me feel like someone really did care (because, really, people do care). She (and my dad, who had been called in for reinforcement) offered their love and support, then convinced me to go home and take a nap. It was sound advice, and I took it.

I tried to take the nap, but my brain wouldn’t turn off–I was trying to figure out how to get the heck out of here. I couldn’t stand one more night in the cold, dark house with everyone huddled around the one, small fireplace. I sent out a plea of desperation on Facebook, looking for someone who might have room for us at their house for the weekend. After a few minutes I had so many responses from friends offering to help us that I had to take down the post so we wouldn’t break the internet (Thank you, friends, you really are the best!). See, I told myself, people really do care.

In the end, we decided to make a break for a warmer locale. My sister lives in southern California, and we figured this would be the perfect excuse to visit them for the long holiday weekend. I don’t know if my sister had been tipped off to my pleasant little phone call with my parents earlier in the day, but she and her family bent over backward to accommodate us. Her family moved out of their house for the weekend and stayed with her in-laws so we could have her whole house–and, most importantly, all of their beds–to ourselves.

We had a great weekend playing with my niece and nephew, swimming, eating out, hiking, and feeling very loved. When we went to church with them on Sunday morning, though, God got the last laugh: the sermon was on why God allows natural disasters to happen. Seriously. I took copious notes, and I left church that morning realizing that God’s grace can override anything and everything–even a storm. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

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Hiking with my sister and her family in sunny southern California–no storm here!

By the time we got back home after our weekend away, the streets were cleared and the power had been restored. All’s well that ends, well…I guess.

So, that is the story of the storm.

I know that I’ll remember this adventure for years to come, but if you only remember one thing about my story, remember this: ice cream is not worth sacrificing. If your power goes out, just start eating all the ice cream. At least then your kids will have a story worth telling.

From The Mouths of Babes

img_9747This week as I was putting our house back together after Christmas, I came across one of my all-time favorite books. It’s a small journal that my sister gave me a few years ago from her travels in Thailand (lucky duck). On the cover of the journal there is a gray elephant decked out in colorful jewels and draped with a red blanket, an elephant fit for a king. The real treasure, however, lies within the book.

When you open the journal to the first page, I have written “From The Mouths of Babes: Funny Things Kids Say and Do”. The following pages are filled with funny (at least, funny to me) quotes and memories from the important little ones in my life: my own children, my nephew, even some of my former students.

As I was re-reading the quotes in this journal I was reminded of how precious this time with littles is–this time when the most innocent words can be misconstrued, and when you realize that common knowledge isn’t so common after all. It all makes for some hilarious tidbits, and lucky for my children, I WROTE THEM ALL DOWN. And now, my friends, I will share some of these gems with you:

December 21, 2012
David (age 2), looking at his picture Bible: “Mommy, I found Jesus!”
Mommy: “What is he doing?”
David: “Playing in the water!” (it was the story of Jesus Baptizing John the Baptist)

May 2, 2013
Mommy : “I’m thinking of a treat, see if you can guess what it is. It’s something you eat that is brown and sweet. It starts with the “ch” sound.”
David (age 2 1/2): “Jellyfish!”

May 2, 2013
David (age 2 1/2), crying hysterically: “I want my fingernail off my finger!”

July 30, 2013
Mommy: “David, can you think of an animal that is covered in wool?”
David (age 2 1/2): “A WOLF!”

November 28, 2013 (Thanksgiving)
Mommy: “David, what are you thankful for?”
David (age 3): “Balls. And beer.”

September 11, 2014
David (almost 4): “I’m touching my butt!”
Mommy: “That’s a yucky word. Try saying “tushy” instead.”
David: “I’m tushy my butt!”

December 2, 2014
David (age 4): “Mom, where are you from?”
Mommy: “Washington.”
David: “No.”
Mommy: “California?”
David: “No.”
Mommy: “Seattle? Ireland? Arizona? Ireland? America?”
David: “No, I think you’re from Heaven.”

December 3, 2014
Jacob (age 2): “Sorry, Daddy.”
Daddy: “Why?”
Jacob hits Daddy in the face
Jacob: “For hitting you.”

December 6, 2014
Jacob (age 2), pointing to a very tall water fountain: “Is that a water mountain?”

January 13, 2016
David (age 4): “Mom, thank you for this yummy treat!”
(The “treat” was a plate full of lettuce leaves.)

April 3, 2015
David (age 4), with pirate face paint on, talking to a lady in the park: “Hi, I’m David!”
Lady: “Hi! I like your face paint. I’m jealous!”
David: “Hi, Jealous!”

April 8, 2015
Jacob (age 2 1/2), having found his first ever snail: “Mom, I’m holding a sticky seashell, and it smells like chicken.”

April 10, 2015
Mommy, pointing to a letter “M”: “Jacob, do you know what letter this is?”
Jacob (age 2 1/2): “McDonalds!”

April 19, 2015
David (age 4 1/2): “Do wildflowers growl and bite?”

August 20, 2015
David (age 4 /12), playing with a rubber band that just snapped his hand: “Ow! That rubber band just got me in the nuts!”

November 10, 2015
Jacob (age 3): “Mom–stop singing. I can’t hear my ears.”

December 10, 2016
Jacob (age 4): “Mom, I love you so much that I’m going to toot!” (proceeds to toot in my face)

Awwww…aren’t they just PRECIOUS?! My take-away from this exercise:  I need to teach my children phonics more often than we go out for fast food, I should feed my family lettuce more often, and my children have a long way to go in learning the ins and outs of their own anatomy.

May your days be full of laughter and so much love that you have to toot.