Father's Day, Benders, And Quality Time.

I realize that I'm a tad belated in my Father's Day post- but a lot has been happening 'round here.

Per ejemplo, Peej kicked off his Father's Day weekend a little early with a Friday night pre-bachelor party bachelor party for one of his best friends. And since this is a family blog, I won't tell you what time he fumbled with the lock/poked at the security system/faceplanted downstairs- nor what condition he was in. (Side note to our mothers: 9pm! And sober as a judge!)

It sorta set the tone for the rest of the weekend, as he was out the door by 10:30am to start the "real" bachelor party. God bless America, I have no idea how he was functioning well enough to even board the #78 bus. (Extra Dad of the Year points? He made pancakes at 8am with both girls "helping.")

That day's bachelor party lasted until roughly 3am. Five hours later, he was awake and celebrating Father's Day with his girls, who couldn't wait to tell him that it was indeed Father's Day. (I let him sleep in and I held off the girls as long as I could- I'm not a monster.)

P.J.spent the day laying in the backyard with the girls (perhaps out of necessity?) and playing countless games with them. He spearheaded a trip to the park, pulled the wagon, and championed Zuzu climbing things by herself (because she's gotta learn).

Look away, Mom. This is Dad Business.

He even helped the girls take a nap. Like, by showing 'em how it was done.

And even though he was probably desperate to sleep through 'til Tuesday, he rallied to spend the rest of the evening with me. Without even snoring or doing that odd thing where he half-sleep talks at me about  nonsensical tax and kitten issues.

And I appreciate that.

I also appreciate how completely cray-cray he is about his daughters- and this new little Roo on the way. I love how PlayDoh and fairy tea parties will always take precedence over "the game." (Or- let's be honest- "Jeopardy.")

And I adore how- on a day which provided the options to do anything in the world he wanted (including sleep the day away)- he chose to play with his kids. And this, on the heels of a week which included the opening of his new show and a couple of debaucherous days, is rather impressive.

So Happy Father's Day, Peej. (And to my Dad. And P.J.'s Dad. And all of the uncles and godparents and "uncles" and exceptional men in our life.)

Thanks for redefining fatherhood, manhood, and the limitations of sleep.

Because Good Lord.

The Gals Have Some News.

...Because things were starting to settle down around here...

...Because we're starting to get a respectable amount of sleep each night...

...And because it looks like there MIGHT be room for one more...

...We're expecting a baby in December.

It's like they always say, "Why wait to remember what it's like to be outta diapers before you need to go buy another four cases at Costco?" (Okay, fine, I just coined that phrase.)

A few preemptively answered questions:

1) Well, if all goes awesomely, we'll have three in December. (How many are you gonna HAVE?)

2) Six weeks. Six. Weeks. My 3rd Kid body is gonna be great, I can just tell. (When did you start to show?)

3) After you, obviously. (What're you gonna name him/her- let's be honest- HER?)

Love,
Two veeery excited big sisters, a wicked proud Dad, and a seasick Mama (whose hormonal and self-pitying rantings are starting to make a leeetle bit more sense, aretheynot?)

Bad Mom; June Edition.

It had not been a good morning.

I would have settled for "mediocre." "Rather lousy." Even "trying."

Instead, it was ramping up to be a No Good, Very Bad Day of downright Alexander proportions.

Every single thing the girls did was Bad; dunking random things into the cats' water bowl and the sink and the [open?!] cup of milk, shoving and pulling hair and whining about who was blocking whose view of the [third] TV show, and dumping entire plates of food onto the [newly cleaned] floor.

Susannah spent the first half of the day finding choking hazards and poking them directly into her throat and nostrils. Climbing the tables. Removing her diaper. Slamming things (books, toys, cats) into things (cabinets, windows, cats).

Nora chose the more high n' mighty route of screaming about Zuzu's every infraction. Demanding that her sister do things differently. Shrieking about apple juice. And tantruming about the fact that she wasn't having a tantrum.

Photo courtesy of Emi Clark. Hooligans courtesy of their father.

Every single thing that I did was Wrong; yelling and scowling and deeply sighing and loudly wondering why no one was helping me wipe the mustard from the windowsill.

On top of it all, I wasn't feeling well. At. All. And P.J. was going to be running from work straight to rehearsal that night. Meaning that bedtime was gonna be a guns-a-blazin', solo affair. (And I knew- I just knew- that wondering about the girls' bedtime at 10am wasn't placing me in the running for any Mother Of The Year mugs.)

So I fed them lunch early- ignoring protests and chair requests and that unmistakable sound of milk sloshing down a table leg. I bundled a slightly confused Susannah off to her nap sliiightly earlier than normal (thinking for the first time that morning "She's contained" and then absolutely despising myself). And I poked Nora in the direction of her room for Big Girl I'm Not Tired Can I Listen To Music Quiet Time.

And I got into my own bed. I pulled the sheet over my ear (half because I wanted to drown out the sounds of my failure and half because I have a very intense fear of bugs crawling into my ear canal). I thought about how sticky and stinky my cluttered house was. I thought about the reviews and posts and blogs for various paycheck-y type things which had no hope of getting done today. (Which would make them roughly a week overdue to begin with.) And I thought about what a god-awful mother I was, how I hadn't intended to wake up and be a Meanie McJerkyFace towards two of the very people for whom I'd willingly take a bullet. (Thought perhaps not while they were scraping chairs along the floor to lick pieces of bread on the counter.)

And I wallowed (in how stupid my day was being). And I self-loathed (about how good I really had it, jerk).

But suddenly, there was a little hand in mine. A tiny hand, squeezing my thumb and wrist, attached to a small person who had ninja'd her way into my bed and had rested a [tousled, sticky] head on my pillow.

"We can just lay here, Mom."

And so Nora- sweet, empathetic Nora- and I took a little nap. Holding hands.

When Susannah woke up (all smiles and "WuvYous"), we decided to try again. I won't lie and say it was cinchy from there on out (I was ready to head straight back to my pillow, thanks to a diaper filled with sidewalk chalk, potting soil, and poop), but it definitely didn't seem quite as difficult as the morning had been.

And after the second bath of the evening, when we were all cuddled up in my bed with books and loveys and a repeat viewing of Sleeping Beauty, I watched my girls. I smelled their [repeatedly washed] hair and marveled at the sunshine curls of one, the honey-hued ones of her sister. I took in their bright eyes, soft (and still rather babyish) skin, and quiet smiles that had apparently forgiven their harpy of a Mom.

Susannah reached a chubby toddler hand out to me and rested her head back, beaming. Nora clutched my other hand. The three of us just lounged there for a moment against the pillows, listening to the street traffic and dogs barking down the block. Nora stuck a thumb into her mouth; Susannah did the same. I closed my eyes and acknowledged that bedtime could wait a teensy bit longer.

It had been a good evening.

(Linking up with Memories Captured!)

Better Together On Laundry Day With P&G.

(I'm thrilled to be part of the DailyBuzz Moms Tastemaker program with P&G. Though this is a compensated post, all thoughts and opinions are my own. As are those clean, clean clothes.)

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I have never been- and will never be- accused of being a Style Blogger. (Sigh.)

I've worn the same red hoodie since 8th grade. My youngest sister is convinced that all three pairs of jeans I own are the exact same pair. And I've definitely worn items that my daughter Nora has coveted and later layered into her own ensemble.

She's three.

But I know what works for me...and I stick with those pairings. Leggings (fine, fine YOGA PANTS) and shirt dresses. Tee shirts and skirts that might as well have been made from tee shirts. And, uh, hoodies n' jeans.

Circa 2007. He's another example of "better together."
(And he likes how I rock a hoodie.)

And now I can name another good combo that works for me. I was recently able to try Tide and Bounce and Downy, courtesy of P&G, and realized a few shocking things:

First off, that I had previously not known how to add Downy fabric softener to my washing machine. Had. Not. Known. How. I felt like a tourist, asking questions of the bottle like- Que? It goes in the machine?

Secondly, each and every one of these products is available in a fragrance-free, sensitive skin variety. Which is awesome, because my youngest kid has easily irritated skin. (We call her Rashley Judd. Or Rashlee Simpson, depending on the age range of those around us.)

And third, when this load came out of the dryer, my husband folded the entire thing. Coincidence? And even though he SAID it had nothing to do with the bright, soft, and fluffy nature of the laundry (seriously, the dish towels stacked twice as high), I think we'll just stay the course with this one and hope for a repeat.

Because when you've got a good thing going, you just stick with it.

Like a red hoodie.

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This post is sponsored by P&G. With Tide®, Downy® and Bounce®, you can keep your summer fashions looking new up to 50% longer.* Text CLEAN to TARGET (827438) for mobile coupons.
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