Lessons from an Almost Four Year Old

In every mother's job description patience and consistency are key.

As a stay at home mother, I am with my children every minute of every day. I am their everything, as they are my everything. There are hours that fly, and hours that creep. There are naps times that happen and naps that are painfully battled. My job description is endless and full of teaching my children to not hit one another in the face with toy trucks, while unloading the dishwasher, preparing dinner, changing a diaper, cleaning spilled milk, wiping snotty noses, getting slobbery kisses and consoling tears, and making sure I have not allowed to much TV, planned enough play dates and activities...All at the same time. My lap is full of babies, my shoulders wet with drool and spit up, my clothes do not fit because I have not been the same size for more than a month in four years. I am so happy and tired at the same time. It is blissful elation one moment, and when is your daddy going to be home the next. It is stay at home mommy land. For that matter, it is motherhood. And I love it.

Having my children so close together has its extreme high points. They will all be together going through school. They are in similar stages. They are super duper cute. And most importantly...and hopefully, they will be friends.

Having them this close together also brings struggle. I never get to go anywhere, I am stuck inside all the time, someone is always crying, the diapers...my caddy, yet very real, excuses could keep going. I also am working on very little sleep... and I have been losing my cool. Snapping at the kids, staring at my phone instead of listening to them. Letting them watch to many movies.

Basically in my book, I have not been doing a good job. And that is where I get to my point of the evening.

How long do you let yourself sit in a pool of pity before you suck it up, pick yourself up, brush off your  whiny behind and move on?

August 12, 2013. Mark that date. That is my answer.

I fell off of a cliff into a rut two weeks ago. It came out of no where. Like a cinder block wall built in the middle of the night. I hit it. Going fast and not breaking. It has been ugly. I have been everything I never wanted to be. I fully admit it, and own it.

Most embarrassingly, my precious Charlotte is the one who called me out. After day 157 of her fighting rest/nap/quiet/stayinyourroommommyneedsabreak time, and me in the midst of trying to get Hunter down, Bland down, lunch cleaned up, laundry switched, the floor swept, a bathroom break, eating lunch myself...I lost my cool. I told her to come downstairs, and in a not nice voice, I then hastily banned her from every form of entertainment in the house. Like even coloring. Yep, it was me becoming the three-year-old, and her looking at me like I was the Wicked Witch from Wizard of Oz.

A few hours after this event. The kids were all having a snack, and Charlotte said, "mommy, I am sorry I did not take a nap, I was just not tired and my tummy hurt. But please don't raise your voice at me, it makes me want to cry. I will do better tomorrow."

Yep, ladies and gentlemen, that happened. 

And yes I felt smaller than a grain of table salt. This was all obviously followed with my cheeks turning red, and several profuse apologies and explanations, and tail tucked between my legs... you get the picture. I am sure you are embarrassed for me. The disappointment resonated in me hard.

I thought about a friend that posted a sweet picture of her children on Instagram about them being her job and hashtaged it with the word Employers. And it woke me up.

My children are my employers, and today I would have been fired.

That is where it happened. My "A ha" moment. I am not going to look at this as a "deck of cards" or a "tough situation". It is hard, they are healthy. My ear drums are numb from the crying, they are strong. My house is a wreck and my face is full of exhaustion and wrinkles, they are full filled.

Sure I will own up to days of defeat. But I am not defeated. I am not a perfect mother, not even close. There is no super-mother, Pinterest priestess living here. But I am a good, strong momma.

And ready to be humbled yet again tomorrow, and it could very well come from my almost four year old.

Happy 7 Months Sweet Hunter!

You turned a sort of sleep curve this month. While you still wake up once a night for a bottle, you are starting to sleep past 6 am. This is a really really great thing and helpful time as our house will take any extra bit of rest we can get.

You sit up with ease, but sitting still is another thing. You are not crawling up on all fours yet, but you are army crawling and rolling all over the place. I have never had a 'roller" and it is quite interesting to see your moves. I also noticed today that you are really putting everything into your mouth. Grass, leaves, toys, hair...you sisters arm. Yes, you are a biter my friend. Like leave bruises biter.

The bottle has become really hard for you and you really stopped eating baby food as well. With 8 teeth I feel pretty comfortable with you eating table food, I just feel like it went by so fast. You love carrots, potattoes, green beans, bananas, and cheese. You dislike yogurt.

The sippy cup is getting easier which is a great thing, becuase you have zero interest in the bottle.

I can not belive how quickly this year is going by. and i know time will never slow down for a moment. I try to soak in every squeeze I can because you are a major sweetheart.

Bland at 19 months and Hunt at 7 months!

18 Months Old

This Kid...

 Don't let

 that sweet face

with those delicious cheeks

 and precious moment eyes

 fool you.

 He is spit fire,

 strong willed, a touch of crazy, wild man,

 mischievous, yet undeniably charming,

 nose scrunchingly cute...

Bam Bam Bland.

6 months old

We made it!! I have always believed that the first 6 months is the toughest in a babies life. You are getting used to the world. You are figuring out how to sleep, and eat, and cry...

To say you are easy is an easy thing to say. It is both truth and in the situation. I appreciate your calm demeanor so very much.

You are Charlotte's twin, and I compare pictures all the time and can not get over how alike you two are. The only difference is your beautiful blue eyes. She truly asks me daily if she can be your mommy and I can just be Bland's mommy. Holding you is her daily highlight.

You are sitting up on your own, but still need some pillows behind you until you are less wobbly. Your head is very large, and it must be a lot to balance ;) You are not a huge fan of being on your stomach, but like to roll all over the place. You are just starting to try and scoot on your belly. You have 7 teeth and more coming in.

Blowing raspberries and laughing are your favorite things to do. We love every bit of you and cant wait to hear how much you weigh at your check up this week.

My Angel Face

I have started writing this post several times, and then deleted or archived it away for another day. Some nights I am simply to tired to write something good enough for an angel like you, other times because I can not find the words to explain how I feel about my old soul of a baby. 

In pure honesty I carry a lot of guilt with you because I do not get the endless hours to rock you and snuggle you. As a mother, the worry nicks notches in an endless belt that seems to wrap around our hearts. As the third child, you get hauled to the pool just to sit and sweat while your siblings swim and swim...and swim. You patiently bounce in the jumperoo while Bland has his tantrums and Charlotte has her meltdowns. You munch on countless puffs while I make lunch for everyone or cook dinner. And when I look over at you, your always smiling.

Each day and night that you are wide awake and resist sleep, I can not help but blame it on the wired chaos you must feel watching our household run. It is close to impossible to get you to sit and take a bottle because someone comes to tickle your feet, someone starts screaming, someone needs me to get them a snack and I have to stop and come back to you...and your usually sitting their looking up at me with your angelic smile. 

During my many, many, many (like a lot) hard days. The kind where everyone is crying, no one is satisfied, boo boos are the trend. Days where I truly want to hide in the closet until daddy gets home. I find myself having this trust and mantra that “today is just a day”. An ever increasing ability to laugh it off, or not be afraid to cry it off. But to let it out, and move on. Moments no longer control my days and weeks. And a lot of this is because of you.

Those sweet baby blues, looking at me with the most sincere and peaceful smile. Your fluffy blonde hair and toothy grin. Eyelashes that go for miles. 

There is something different about you. You brought a light back into my life. 

I have had a lot of questions through the years. I don't really believe that everything happens for a reason, or that there is a specific set plan for everything. I believe we all have choices. Church is not always the most comfortable setting for me. I believe in God and the Holy Spirit. I know that. I believe in the spirituality and strength the bible brings people. But I always had all of these questions, too many questions, so many unanswerable. 

I have fallen victim to the "why me" selfish feelings before. When life gets really hard, I have turned to negativity. I have had days and weeks where I did not count my blessings. And worst of all, I had let my faith dwindle in to a cold, very black and white place. 

But call it age, call it wisdom, call it life...call it Hunter. Each day my faith overpowers my doubt a little bit more. Sometimes I can almost see it standing in front of me jumping up and down screaming, I am here, let it be. Your birth, your life, your purpose in our family, my sweet angel, is the glue. 

You are my solace. 

As each of my sweet babies do, you fill my heart and my soul, and you are each my greatest teachers, and I love you more than sunshine.

Running errands.

Trying to do Patty Cakes.

Fourth of July morning. You were very sick.

A moment of sleep. Moment is the key word.

Bathtime

And then there were Three.

I am still wrapping my head around the fact that I have three children. 

In 39 months, 4 1/2 years of marriage and 28 years of age, I have three of the world's greatest gifts and biggest responsibilities.

My body is exhausted. I have grown, and delivered two big babies in 363 days. My scoliosis is at its worst, pain level pretty high, rod incredibly broken. And yet, somewhere and somehow I am doing this, and with less overwhelmed moments than I expected.

I must admit, I was fearing defeat, all out chaos, impossibility. And there are definitely those moments days. But we are doing it, and for the most part with smiles. Because it is a lot easier to laugh and smile, than cry and stress. 

People constantly ask how I am handling things, and with a look of "Uh-oh is she going to have a breakdown?" or "I wonder how much wine she drinks". And I have had the funniest comments about how hard it will be for me to lose my baby weight aka your still pudgy, you look exhausted aka you look horrible, "I bet you need a tummy tuck after those three", and my favorite..."Was that one planned" in which I kindly smile, say bless your heart (thank God for southern grace) and remind the person that he is sitting right there, can hear you, and was most certainly in someones plans, as I look up to the heavens. People never cease to amaze me...BUT "I do still believe people are good at heart"...Thank you Anne Frank

I have figured out how to change a diaper while hurdling Bland with one foot and balancing on the other. I have learned how to let things go. The consistent crying(Bland) and whining has started to fade into a background like music. I have stopped stressing about Charlotte's hair being perfect and adorned with a matching bow for her perfect outfit to go to preschool. Speaking of looks, I have come to the conclusion that there will be days that the mirror and I do not meet.

 Bland is my hard child, everyone has one, but his charm seems to make up for it, he is just that cute. Hunter is my precious, peaceful, easy baby, and I feel constant guilt for not having enough time to hold him. Charlotte, the sweet girl that made me a mother, she has true resilience, and has handled these two boys with grace and hilarity. I remind her quietly that girls are a tiny bit stronger than boys, in lots of different ways ( I figure she needs to know these things early).

I have figured out so many things. I have been knocked off my feet in so many ways. And yet again, my children continue to give me strength. I am still figuring out so many things. And yet again, my children remind me of the faith that it takes to be a parent. I am realizing the joys you can find in letting things go, accepting a messy floor, soaking in the hugs and snuggles, finding joy in my only one-on-one time with Hunter during the late night feeding (eek did i just say that). I will stop there.

I have learned to say sorry when I lose my temper and snap at someone. I have learned to let Bland's insane tantrums be, and just walk away. He may go to the principals office a lot, but he WILL learn one day. I have a personal understanding that some days are just not great, but the weeks are better judgments for life. And yet again, I can not help but think of how much I will miss these days when they are grown.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel Let Down Your Hair

Charlotte and her hair.

Bounciest, prettiest blonde hair ever. More volume and shine than a Pantene commercial and you will let me sit and braid it, curl it, brush it, style it...Trust me I know my luck.

However, as you get older your hair has started to get the ragamuffin stringy hair look, so I explained to  that if you really want Tangled's Hair (because that movie has convinced lots of little girls that Rapunzel's name is Tangled) then you have to cut it first to get it healthy and then we can just let it grow.

So off we went to Miss Jenny, with the two boys in tow, and off you hair went. It was a lot, shorter than I expected, but you like it. I am not one for short hair (mainly on myself), but I must say the cutesy bob is sweet on your precious face.

Two Months

We have made it 2 months Hunter. You have only endured one head-but from your oh-so-mischievous brother. It wasn't bad and you did not cry.

I must admit, probably should not say this, BUT, so far you have been my easiest infant. You cry when you need something, root when you are hungry, rubs your eyes when you are tired...everything (so far) has been consolable. And that, my dear, is an amazing thing for this household. 

Your sleep pattern is not scheduled yet, and half of the reason is because there is not a lot of time to spend putting you down. You sort of sleep wherever we all are. At night daddy feeds you around 11-12 and you eat again around 4:30. Sometimes you go back to sleep, sometimes you don't. So yes, I am exhausted, but you aren't crying and you take bottles. That is the important part.

You weigh 15 pounds, and are 24 inches and your head is 16 1/2 inches. Apparently that is very large. You are a little bigger than your siblings were at this age, but not much. You smile, coo and talk to us all day long. When I see your face the only thing I can think is WOW you look like Charlotte. 

Your eyes are very blue right now, but I am betting they will be brown when all is said and done. Although, everyone else thinks I am wrong. Your hair is lightening and falling out. You have a very tiny nose, and pretty lips. 

I am so glad I get to be your mom, and I have a feeling you are going to be a gentle soul.

We have Another One!

Our precious little blessing arrived Wednesday night, January 9th. The same night of the week that just one year earlier I delivered Bland. Two days apart, I am sure eventually people will do a double take and ask if they are twins (because of their similar age and size--not looks). There will be shared birthday parties, clothes, friends and little league teams. And in-to be frank-all honesty they now share equal parts of my heart. I always wondered how mothers with multiple children had enough love to share and provide...well let me tell you it is there ten fold. I have enough love for my three babies to circle the world...a few times.

Hunter Monroe Forrest arrived at 8:19 pm. He weighed in at 9 pounds and 12 ounces and measured 21 inches. He was a big boy, but a few ounces short of big brother Bland. Anyone that knows me, knows that Mr. Hunter was a bit of a challenge throughout the pregnancy as he was determined to stay breech. I however, was determined not to have a CSection and after multiple worries of a possible 11 pounder, I held my breath (literally) and had an ECV, which is where they turn the baby during a process of pushing and pulling on the outside of the stomach. Peoples facial reaction goes to the "ouch that had to hurt" and the answer is yes it did, but it only lasted 4 minutes, and my sweet Hunter gave in and went head down and ready to go.

A few days later the decision to be induced was made as we did not want to run the risk of him turning, and there was still that concern that he may be XL because of prior sonograms. The induction was boring and something I am not a fan of--I like to let nature take it's course--but seeing as the ECV already was out of the ordinary, I gave in. I waited and waited as my husband sat beside me suffering from a stomach bug, shivering and sleeping through most of the process. Perfect timing ;)

However, once Hunter was ready, he was determined. I have never experience contractions come on that quickly with such intensity and after my epidural went south. It started as a hot spot and ended with a Hail Mary to the Pain Gods. I was in tears, and sweating, and hurting. A Lot. I have an extremely high pain tolerance. And I will forever be humbled for that pain.

After a bit of coercing I agreed to more medicine, and the delivery began. All I can say is he is here, he is healthy, and he has a pretty head shape....And that is the last time I will experience that. I must say I have a part of me that is relieved and a larger part that is sad I will never feel that adrenalin again.

Kisses goodbye as we head out to the hospital.

He is here.

 Big Baby feet that have been standing on my back bones for a few months.

Daddy and Son.

Day One.

Home.

Sweet baby.

We have a Walker!

Some may call it a drunken sailor walk, but after watching your hardworking chunky legs take those big strides, you deserve to be called a "walker".

Your first steps did not make it to video, but they were very loudly celebrated by Mommy, daddy and sissy. You were 11 months old, in the living room and just went for it! We hooted and hollered and you cackled at our craziness. It was such a prideful moment and you have taken more and more confidence in your steps each day. After a week of steps on your own, you can now walk across the room stand up on your own, reach down pick something up and stand back up. I can already tell that as soon as you gain your balance you will not walk but run everywhere. The foreshadowed bumps and cruises are endless. I am so proud of you and so happy to see you grow. I love you my sweet boy.