The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Despite my wishin' and hopin' for the opposite, it appears that our "vacation" down to my parents house has come to an end. At least the "vacation" portion of it, that is. (and by "vacation" I mean any possibility of fun whatsoever...) In a few short hours we will be packing up our bags and making the treacherous trek back to Lubbock via I-45 and I-20. I think I'll take a few Advil now to prepare myself for the onslaught of pain that will most definitely ensue in my head during said road trip.

But for the most part, this has been a delightful trip. Nothing says "the holidays" like shopping, eating, lounging, movie-watching, mass attending, and relaxing. All of which I was blessed to be able to do. And I must admit, though it's always fun to be able to give and receive gifts, there's nothing quite like getting to spend a little quality time with family. That's definitely The Good of Travelling with the Asmussens. One aspect I most certainly will never get tired of is getting to see the joy on my parents' faces as they interact with the boys. As previously mentioned, I sometimes get blinded by the stress of chasing two babies and end up missing some of the most precious moments with these guys. Something about grandparenting gives them the grace to truly cherish every little second with Kolbe and Reagan. Maybe it's that they only get to see them from time to time. And maybe it's that they're just a little head-over-heals in love. And while being an adult and a mother and a wife feel so natural to me now, I can't help but also enjoy the ability to come home and be a daughter once again.

But, oh! The Bad! Last year at this time when we came down for Christmas, I was a sluggish six months pregnant and had a feisty thirteen month old. Throw in a staircase, a festively decorated house, and a winter cold (for Kolbe). At times it was literally a recipe for disaster. I remember asking myself Am I really going to be able to do this next year with two!?! But as for Kolbe, I wish I knew then what I know now. I certainly wouldn't have worried as much. Kolbe can now maneuver the staircase quite well, knows not to touch the decorations, and sleeps through the most annoying of sounds.

Including those produced by his brother. (I just dropped a few more Advil into my mouth at the thought...) Reagan, Reagan, Reagan. I sure do love that kiddo, but he's definitely associated with The Bad for this trip. Don't get me wrong. Yes, he did pull all kinds of items off of every surface in the house, broke a beloved heirloom of my parents', and forced us to use baby gates for the stairs. But that wasn't even The Bad part! Heck, he's ten months old; we didn't expect him to be perfect. The nightmare occurred precisely when most nightmares come...at night. I don't know if it was the strange room we all slept in, the absence of his comfort noises that he has at home (humidifier and heater), or the impending protrusion of his left front tooth that caused the breakdown, but I do know that it resulted in between a mere 3 and 6 hours of sleep for me each night.

Seriously, people. I do better at home.

The initial wake-up usually occurred around midnight...and then every thirty minutes to two hours there after. And these weren't "newborn" wake-ups where I could just nurse him and he'd fall right back asleep. These were full blown scream fests that had no rhyme or reason. To add, he would crank the scream up a notch if it was anyone holding him except for me! A few times I found myself asking, Is The Good really worth The Bad? Sheesh. I'm here on a vacation...not to torture myself! Or him, for that matter! Needless to say, there is one reason I'm anxious to get back to Lubbock: to get Reagan back on his normal sleep routine. At least I have the peace of mind of knowing that, should we be able to make the journey again next year, both he and Kolbe will be at the age where this shouldn't be a problem. Lord willing.

And The Ugly. Something I'd rather not discuss but suppose in all honesty, I must. Every year at this time, both Mark and I manage to cave in one specific area. Food. Could it be the strategically placed candy bowls that cry out to me from eye or hand level? The favorite Woodlands restaurants that we just have to go to? The over-sized tin of candy-coated popcorn? The endless supply of my beloved Coca Cola? In fact, it's all of them. And I just can't say no. Unfortunately, by the end of basically every night that we've been here, my stomach has been more than eager to say no. I found myself asking as I tossed and turned uncomfortably in bed, Why did I eat so much today!?! Really, I should practice more self-control... but it just all looks so good! And besides, someone has to eat that last chunk of summer sausage...

Time for a Break

I'm. On. Vacation.

Ahhhhhhhhh. (yes, that's one long sigh.)

It's somewhat of an unplanned and harried vacation, but a vacation nonetheless. Since we spent Christmas with my family last year, we will be spending this Christmas with Mark's family in Lubbock. Still, both Mark and I have desperately been needing a break. Like a break from Lubbock. A total get-away from the "real world."

When we realized that Mark would be finishing up with his rotation on the 17th (more than a week before Christmas), we decided we'd high-tail it down to The Woodlands for a quick visit with my parents. I suppose my itch to get out was stronger than I thought, as here I sit at my parents computer on the 15th, typing away while my mom puts Kolbe to bed. The boys and I decided to fly down in advance to give Mark some peace and quiet in order to study for his block exam.

Now that I'm here, I feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Like, oh! What a relief! It's so nice to have two extra sets of hands. Two, make that three. Dave arrived this evening. And all three "helpers" love to dote on the boys, an activity that has been beginning to wear on me greatly. Don't get me wrong. There's no better job than taking care of these guys. Lately it has just seemed like total chaos and conflict, and I'm thinking the break will help even things out. At least I'm hoping.

I think as moms we feel like we have to be on our A-game at all times. Whether people are looking or not. Have you ever gotten that guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach when it's noon, you're still in pajamas, heck, your kids are still in pajamas, there's barely a stitch of carpet showing from beneath the mound of toys on the floor, and you're attempting to close your eyes and go to your happy place? I've been feeling it a lot lately. With questions swirling through my mind like Why in the world is nothing working today? How can they look so sweet and act so terrible? Why am I not being an effective mommy? And why is it that guilt is the emotion connected with these questions?

Really, I shouldn't feel guilty for not having it all together all of the time. Trying to come across as the perfect Suzie Homemaker is really unrealistic. I'm a human being. Not only an imperfect mother, but an imperfect person all together. But the thing is, I'm perfectly imperfect. That's the way it's supposed to be. God made us to need Him. Without struggles, weakness, difficulties, and challenges, would we really need Him? I suppose going through these things are quite necessary in order to stay connected.

And another thing. We really shouldn't feel guilty for taking a break. I have a confession to make. I, yes I, a contestant on Who Wants to be a Perfect Mother allowed my barely two year old child to fly on an airplane with his grandmother to Houston and spend the night away from me. (Gasp!) Granted, Reagan and I flew down today...the very next morning...but in all honesty, I had originally decided to let him do it for four whole nights! After deciding that baby steps (for me, not for him) were better, one night was still a major milestone for us. Still, when I stopped by the bank this morning before leaving town, all my former co-workers had seemingly shocked expressions on their faces. You let him do what? How could you!?! All the way to Houston!?! On a plane!?! I would have never imagined that you of all people would do such a thing!!! Cue guilty mom feelings.

But why? My child is safe, he's being completely cared for, and he's happy. Letting him take this little trip should not get me voted off the island. If making my little guy happy, making my parents happy, and giving me a break is bad, then I suppose I'm not cut out for Who Wants to be a Perfect Mother after all. Like I said, perfectly imperfect. As it should be.

And yes, I'm going to get my hair done tomorrow. At a salon. By someone else. And by myself!

A break. It will be good for me. And in the long run, good for my boys and good for my husband. I hope to return to Lubbock rejuvenated, reinvigorated, and more passionate about my career as a mama than ever. Lord willing, the boys will have a totally refreshed mama and wife! (and hopefully one with fabulous locks!)

Black Friday Bonanza

Every now and then I do something ridiculous.

Ok, maybe more than "every now and then." I guess I should say that every now and then I admit to doing something ridiculous. Like going shopping at 5:00am. On the day after Thanksgiving. Ridiculous, I know.

But the female in me just can't resist! What is it that's so attractive about dragging yourself out of bed when you can be sleeping? The thrill of the chase? The camaraderie of fellow die hard shoppers?

Who knows. My mother claims that the days she doesn't have a desire to go out and shop on the day after Thanksgiving, she'll know she has truly gotten old. If that's the case, I suppose I'll continue to subject myself to such nonsense for years to come. I certainly don't plan on getting "old" any time soon.

And truth be told, we really didn't do much shopping at all. It was more marvelling at all the crazies out there with us. Although, I must admit that I did walk away with a $30 set of 700 thread count sheets courtesy of my mother and oh. my. gosh. Why didn't I get a nice set of sheets sooner!?! These are heavenly! (as if I needed any more reason to want to get some more sleep!)

We met up with my friend, Erin, outside of our local Target. After deciding we weren't willing to stand in the wrap around line that ended in the alley behind the store, we hopped in my mom's car and headed to Kohls. While there was no line outside Kohls, the line to check out inside wrapped completely around the inside of the store and doubled back. Uh, no. So we drove back to Target planning just to get Erin's car and call it a morning. (or is that technically still night!?!)

On the way back we were listening to Christmas music and Erin mentioned a song she and her hubby, Ben heard on the radio. We laughed at the funny "holiday" lyrics of "I need therapy." We also decided that possibly we were the ones needing therapy for being out so early to shop.
Notice I said "possibly."

Unfortunately, we found the person these lyrics were actually written for. The woman behind us in line at Target. Yes, after getting back to the parking lot, we decided to brave the crowd and go in. (Thank God we did, oh lovely sheet set!) Really, the shopping portion wasn't bad at all. We could see the check out lines were getting long so my mom decided to go ahead and get in line while Erin and I finished up. We joined her shortly there after. I offered to go grab my mom a coffee from the cafe and returned within a few minutes.

About 10 minutes later, The Ultimate Crazy decided she needed to let off some steam. Out of no where we hear this lady shout off: "Uh, I just have to say this cause I've been waiting in line just like you people and if you let anyone else cut in line, I'm going to say something! My time is important!"

We were shocked to realize she was talking to us!

Obviously she didn't know who she was messing with. My mom quickly defended the fact that
we were all together, in the same car, and definitely not "cutting." Hello, Lady! It's CHRISTMAS time! And besides! You are shopping at FIVE O' CLOCK IN THE MORNING!!! Did you not expect to stand in line!?! Get over it!

But she didn't give up there. We smiled and went back to our conversation and it just about drove her nuts. She jumped back in a few minutes later saying, "You can stand there and smirk and smile all you want but you better not let another person walk up and cut." Craziness! What is wrong with you, lady!?! She kept mumbling under her breath about us as well. And calling her friends on her cell phone to tattle on us too! She was the kind of lady who would give you the middle finger if you made any attempt of consolation. Ugh! Her attitude definitely put the black in "black Friday."

After about 30 minutes of waiting in line, we made our purchases and stumbled back to the car (making sure Crazy wasn't following to jump us our slash our tires). Needless to say, later in the day nap time for the boys was undoubtedly nap time for Mama too! All in a day's work, right!?!

New "Addictions"

It's definitely been a little while since I wrote, but not because I didn't have lots on my mind. And of course not because nothing was happening around here. More of the contrary. Instead, I've been spending a good portion of my "free" time indulging in one of my favorite activities from my previous life: reading.

I'm definitely a fiction girl. I love getting lost in stories of other "worlds"--places I can go when my world seems a little crazy! And it's so fun to learn characters--their likes, dislikes, emotions, personality--and finding out how they relate to me. Yes, there are "people" out there like me...even if they aren't real.

But typically I'm strictly a "believable" fiction type of person. I've never been one to dive in to a good fantasy or science fiction-type book and actually enjoy it. In fact, I'm the type of person that doesn't enjoy movies like The Matrix or Star Wars because in the back of my mind I'm constantly saying This really couldn't happen in real life. So much for the imagination, right? But my dear cousin, Mandi, has been begging me to check out the Twilight Saga for some time now (okay, let's be honest...like over a year). Every time she mentioned it, I smugly rolled my internal eyes and ranted off one of my Why waste my time reading a bunch of books that couldn't really happen. As if I have the time! quotes in the back of my head. But several weeks ago when we got together so the kids could play, she brought along the first two books and insisted that I take them and just give them a try. The two books proceeded to sit on top of my jewelry box day after day. I had company coming two weeks in a row and little time to "give something a try."

Before long, I became intrigued by the cover of the first book which features two hands holding a red apple. Immediately my mind wandered to the book of Genesis and the temptation in the Garden of Eden. I wondered if this had anything to do with the theme in Twilight and secretly patted myself on the back for catching it after opening to the first pages and finding a verse from Genesis scrawled on a page of its own. Okay, okay, I told myself. Would reading a few chapters really kill me?

A few weeks of no cleaning, little sleep, piles of dirty laundry, and countless errands left un-run later, the first two books sit back on top of my jewelry box waiting to be returned to Mandi. In exchange for the second two, of course! Despite my loathing of fiction that couldn't really happen, I definitely got drawn in and hooked on this series. While yes, I do still realize that this (probably) wouldn't ever happen, it was so fun to just get lost in a fun story with action, romance, and even some religious themes. (I tend to always be looking for those.)

Now for the embarrassing confession. Beyond being good books, they have begun to makes this series into movies (as I'm sure everyone who owns a television is aware of). Mark and I made a movie night of watching the first one, Twilight, together a week or so ago. First I was shocked that he would actually want to watch it with me, and then I was further amazed that he actually liked it! While the movie was certainly nowhere as good as the book, it did follow along fairly closely and was enjoyable to watch. It's always fun to put real faces with the characters from the pages. Nerd Alert!!! So as for my confession, I'm somewhat ashamed (but not really) to admit that Mandi and I and several of her other Twilight obsessed friends, are actually going to the premier of the second movie, New Moon, on Friday. First of all, I rarely go to the movies. They are way too expensive and often overrated. Secondly, when I do go, I almost always want it to be with Mark. For a date. Thirdly, I don't think I have ever been possessed to do something as ridiculous as go to a premier of a movie as huge and hyped up as this one. Actually, I don't think I've ever been possessed to go to the premier of any movie whatsoever. But I digress. I just couldn't bring myself to turn down both a girl's night and a change to see the book that I just read and loved on screen. Since I'm sure we'll have to stand in line forever just to sit together and fight our way through a crowd of over-the-top teenage girls, I'll probably be back on here regretting this choice next week, but oh well! Good luck to Mark and Co. with watching the babies while I'm off to my fantasy world of Twilight!

On another note, somewhere in between the more than one thousand pages I've read in the past few weeks, we managed to celebrate my first son's second birthday. There are tons of fun pics on our other blog site, but I thought I'd share a few on here of one little element I was quite proud of. Mark and I have always loved to watch cooking shows and I've always been fascinated with the cake making shows. While many people have told me that fondant icing tastes icky, I still had a strange desire to give it a try. And what better excuse than a two-year-old's birthday party!?! If it came out looking like a hot mess, it would be no biggie. So the night before Kolbe's party, Mark and I (with the help of Aunt Abby making little balls for the trim) sat at the kitchen table together and made our little guy's cake. Here are the results!

Another little slightly more domestic "addiction" I've gotten in to is making sugar cookies with royal icing. I've seen them done many times and always wanted to try on my own. The first batch I made (back in September) were pretty good but needed a lot of help with icing. The second batch I made (for Katie's baby shower) were cute but had one major flaw. Instead of making the icing homemade, I bought some store brand that was supposed to work the same way. It didn't. The icing never solidified and so they weren't quite the same as what I had hoped for. Luckily, the third time was a charm and Kolbe's birthday cookies came out just as I hoped. While I find it ridiculous to brag about doing things I should be able to do (like keeping the house clean, keeping two boys fed, cleaned, and happy, keeping our lives in order, etc.) I can't help but share when I manage to crank out something extra special that I never imagined I could hold in my bag of tricks. Thank God I don't have to post all the "flubs" I've amassed in this lifetime too!

No Rest for the Weary

So maybe I have done a little too much bragging about my precious little Reaga-Rudy-Booty. He's the perfect baby! He eats well! Sleeps well! He never cries! Most of those traits remain true for Reagan.

Except for one.

One very (VERY) important one.

In the past few weeks, Reagan's sleeping has gone from great to fair to down-right horrible. How horrible? Here's my sleep log for him from last night:

8:00pm - asleep after nursing.
10:45pm- fussing. Mark calms and gets him back to sleep.
11:30pm- whimpering. Pat his back, rub his head, back asleep.
11:53pm- crying. Nurses. back to sleep by 12:07am.
1:47pm- fussy again. Try to let him resolve on his own in hopes he's just stirring...no luck. Orajel
on gums, cuddle, pat, back to sleep by 2:05am.
3:01am- crying. Tried patting and cuddling. Put down but woke back up. Nursed on one side for
a few minutes but then stopped. Rocked, cuddled, asleep by 3:36am.
4:40am- moaning and groaning. Sitting up in bed. Ended up walking and bouncing him back to
sleep. Asleep by 4:51am.
5:30am- wide awake. Attempted good ol' fashion swaddling and held him close. Asleep by
6:00am.
6:40am- awake for the day

Does this sound like any of your children? For your sake, I certainly hope not. Maybe I have just been spoiled. Regardless, this has turned in total nonsense. If my math is correct (which considering the lack of sleep, it may not be) other than the very first chunk of sleep from 8-10:45, the longest he slept at any given point was one hour and forty minutes! That's worse than a newborn! Sheesh!

So what's the culprit? Part of me is hoping and praying that it's just his teeth. He finally had one come in a few weeks ago and another that has been bulging for a week or so. The other part of me is hoping it's not his teeth. Uh, hello! There are TONS more that still have to come through! I can't keep this up forever! We had his grandpa check him out and it's definitely not an ear infection. No fever either. Not too hot, not too cold. And the funny thing is, besides generally sleepiness, he's relatively happy during the day. Whatever is bothering him that much at night doesn't seem to be bothering him during the day. Grandpa gave one suggestion that's also a possibility. He said that babies begin dreaming around 9 months of age and this could be what's waking him so abruptly in the middle of the night. Hmmm...plenty of suspects.

Really, who knows what's to blame. All I know is that I'm hoping and praying that it stops soon! I try to keep myself healthy, but this little issue I tend to stuggle with (lupus) is not very fond of lack of sleep. I've been looking back through several sleep books in hopes of discovering some little trick or technique that might be better for Reagan. How can he go from sleeping so well for so long to barely sleeping at all!?! I have faith that it will eventually resolve itself.

But faith isn't making it any better right now! I love my little guy and would gladly sit up all night with him, but I have to be healthy to be a good mom and give Reagan everything he needs. And Kolbe too! Sleep is required! But then again, who am I to complain. I'm on here typing a dadgum blog post instead of taking a nap. (but of course, that's just because Reagan is sleeping...which I know will be short lived. Why tease myself with a nap!?!)

For the Love of Lists

Ok, I have to admit I have a slight obsession with lists. It used to not be so bad, but my nearly year-long trek as a stay-at-home mom has turned it in to utter nonsense. Luckily, as of now, I'm pretty sure that no one knows about my list obsession. Well Mark may have an inkling. Every now and then I'll leave one out on the counter and I'll catch him reading it over. Laughing.



Lists are perfect for every occasion. Groceries, items to get at Target, things to be done before tomorrow, stuff to get Mark for Christmas, goals to reach before next year...the list of lists goes on and on. But it's not just the number of lists I have, but habits in keeping them as well that makes this practice so ridiculous.



Everything, and I mean everything has to be listed. For example, on my regular weekly "to-do" list, I have everything from "laundry" (which should be assumed) to "thank you note for so-and-so" (which realistically could be forgotten if not included on the list). But that's not it. When it comes to cleaning, I insist on listing out each room. "Vacuum boys' room", "vacuum office", "vacuum family room". It can't just be "vacuum the whole house". Stupid, I know!



And many items on these lists are simply wishful thinking. Do any of you honestly think that "take down and wash all glass light fixtures" will get checked off any time soon? Or how about "scrub down kitchen table and chairs" ??? I think not. I suppose they are just things that I recognize as needing to be done and I simply don't want to forget. So twenty-some-odd years from now when I have the time....



I know; I'm probably starting to sound a bit crazy. Which might not be too far off. But please, let me explain why I love lists:

1. They make me feel organized.
2. They are the memory that I'm somehow lacking ever since I became a mother. Ever heard of Mommy Brain???
3. In a world where I often feel like I get nothing accomplished other than a few dirty diapers changed, even just one, simple, left-handed check mark on that paper can be so satisfying!
4. And in extreme cases, getting multiple items checked off the list or (gasp!) and entire list completed, I actually feel like somewhat of a super hero.



Ahh. Wasn't that a lovely, non-check-needing list!



So, you see, adding each individual room in my cleaning endeavors is merely a way of rewarding myself. It's kind of like the little kid who gets to put a sticker on his chart every time he does a chore or goes potty in the toilet. Way to go, Laura! You got seven check marks today! Pathetic, I know.



And you should see me when we travel. A list for me, a list for Kolbe, and a list for Reagan. But seriously! Who wants to get on the plane or fifty miles out of town and realize they forgot their toothbrush or phone charger!?! Not me. The list is the perfect thing to prevent this tragedy. And I've even been known to type out my travel packing list and print not just one, but two copies so that I can have one for the return trip home. (a whole new set of check marks! Sweet!)



But my most shameful admission has yet to be mentioned. Embarrassingly, I have made it a practice to add things to my lists that have already been accomplished. For example, the other day I headed out to the garage, dust-buster in hand, determined to clean out the back seat of the Camry. Upon returning inside, I headed to my list to mark it off. In disgust, I realized that "vacuum out back seat of car" was no where to be found! I did something and was not going to be rewarded with a check mark! This just could not be, so I jotted it down to the bottom of the list and proceeded to check it off immediately. (Borderline OCD, right!?!)



But alas, if my little list ritual helps get me through the day, it's probably fairly harmless. Still, I somehow feel a little better and not so weird just by explaining my love of lists on here. While I doubt any of you are as ridiculous as me in this habit, I'm sure many of you love the comfort of lists as well. I'm not the only one. Right? .....Right!?!

The Early Bird...

Typically I would follow such a title with "gets the worm." However, my little early bird never seems interested in eating at all. Yes, here we sit, Reagan and I, passing the early morning hours together. It's still pitch black outside, and I almost look forward to the day light savings time change just so I won't be taunted by the fact it's still beyond dark and I'm not asleep.

Some mornings, Reagan manages to sleep in with his big bro...and by sleep in, I mean 7:45 or 8:00 at the latest. But over the past few months or so, the time for full alert more often than not has started with a 6. And every now and then a 5. Grrr. And the reason is even more aggravating! No, he doesn't want to eat. No, he's not waking up at some strange sound or because he's cold or hot. Nope.

My sweet little dumpling is waking up for his daily number two. Seriously! As if he can find no other time in the day where this would be appropriate!

And believe me; I've tried everything to control the situation. It usually plays out something like this:
- The famous grunting begins. (almost identical to Kolbe's notorious sound.)
- Laura makes a rapid attempt to quell the situation while Reagan is still technically asleep.
- Reagan refuses to nurse. Doesn't want to be patted. Doesn't want to walk around and be bounced. 
- He's wide awake. It's a lost cause. Off to the family room, we go.

I guess the saying is true; when you gotta go, you gotta go. The only redeeming factor about this whole situation is that Reagan (at this stage in life) is marvelous at independent play. He's just recently perfected his mobilization tactics and loves the freedom to roam the room and peruse all of the toys while Kolbe's not around to steal them. So typically as this early morning ritual rolls on, I plop him down with a basket of toys and curl up on the couch beside him with a blanket and pillow. While it's never "real" sleep, I can often superficially doze off for a few minutes while he's doing his deed.

But then, of course, the next battle begins: keeping the little stinker quiet so he doesn't wake his brother up! I suppose there's nothing quite like starting your day with a poopy diaper. Our little early bird certainly doesn't get the worm. Just give him a roll of toilet paper, a cup of coffee, and the morning paper and he'll be happy!

Praise and Encouragement

First of all, thanks to everyone for all of the positive comments since "going public" with the new blog! It's been very encouraging for me. Nice to know that some of you out there are experiencing some of the same things we go through on a daily basis. And my apologies to those of you emailed who attempted to post a comment and got rejected. I somehow had it set to where comments wouldn't post without my approval. I went in and changed it this morning so we should be all good now. And for everyone who asked, yes, our new laundry detergent does work! I know, I know. I say that as if I was expecting it not to work. Which I kind of was. I guess it's my mother's voice in the back of my head saying, "With some things, you get what you pay for." But in the case of the laundry detergent, by spending less, you definitely get more! Here's a link to a website that has several different recipes for homemade laundry detergent. If you feel so inspired, try one that sounds good to you! (http://tipnut.com/10-homemade-laundry-soap-detergent-recipes/) .

So back to what I was saying earlier...the responses I received about some of the other posts on here were so encouraging to me! A few nights ago Mark and I had a heart to heart and I was trying to explain to him the solitude of being a stay-at-home mom. I'm a very social person. I love to talk. Probably too much. As if the rest of the world wouldn't want to hear my opinion! : )  But then, I've always known this about myself. One thing I didn't realize about myself before committing to the world of Kolbe and Reagan was how much I loved praise. And no, I'm not talking about Oh Laura! You're so wonderful! I'm in awe of your greatness! That's just awkward. Gross. I'm talking about little things. Good job! or Wow! You got that done quick! Just little affirmations that encouraged me to keep going. When I worked at the bank I got to hear these all the time. And when I was teaching it was more of the Thanks, Miss Hefferly! or Hey, Heff! that I relished from my students.

What a rude awakening stay-at-home-momship has been! The only time I hear Thanks from Kolbe is when I tell him to say it. Like 5 times in a row. Does hearing praise really mean that much to me? Is that what really kept me going all along? Come on. Admit it. We all like to know that we're doing well. I explained to Mark that when he comes home at the end of the day, he is often the only person I've spoken to the entire day. Literally. I'm not kidding. The only non-jibberish, coherent conversation! And so not only do I covet just the time spent talking, but his words of encouragement as well. I know that he doesn't see half of what goes on here day in and day out, but it still makes me beam like a kindergartener displaying his first finger painting when Mark tells me the house looks nice or dinner was yummy.

Don't get me wrong, when Kolbe runs up and give me a hug or when Reagan shoots me his irresistible smile, it's all the praise I need to keep on going. They are truly my reward for pretty much everything in life. But as their mother, I'm finding more and more that in order to be the best mom I can be, I've got to take care of myself too. And that means challenging myself, using my God-given talents, and connecting with other people. Maybe that's another reason why I started writing on here: hoping to connect. And probably why I felt so thrilled when I read several of your emails saying how you related to my stories. Since blogging and emailing often take up quite a bit of time, I've also tried to start texting more often. Those only take a few seconds but can mean so much. Heck, if we're going to pay for texting on our phones, why not use them to touch base with other friends or encourage someone else? For me, even just receiving a text that says Hey! is so exciting! Hark! Someone thought about me! And I tend to be thinking about other people I love too!

Once again, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice. The day you find out you're pregnant, the sacrifice begins. Not just money, not just time, but a great deal of yourself. The little things you enjoyed that you didn't even realize you enjoyed. And yes, the insecurities do seem to creep in, but is it worth it? You betcha!

The Poor House

So as all of you who know us well know, Mark and I have been living in the proverbial "poor house" for quite some time now. Considering neither one of us is gainfully employed, it's no wonder this imaginary dwelling feels so much like home. And really, I can't believe it's been almost a year since I left my job at the bank to pursue my dream career of being a stay-at-home mom. Time sure does fly when you're having fun. Or maybe it just flies when all the days are the exact same as the one before. Or when there's so little sleep that you're not sure if a new day has started yet or not.

But back to the poor part of things. To be completely honest, there are days when I'd give anything to have a little bit of money to do certain things with. Such as have an exterminator come by the house. Or buy a replacement lamp for the one that Kolbe knocked down more than a year ago. (It no longer works but remains perched behind our arm chair for decoration.) But there are also days when I truly believe that going through this zero-income part of our lives is actually a wonderful thing. And I'm so glad that it's happening at the beginning of our marriage and lives as parents. The lessons we are learning now are the very building blocks we hope to build the foundation of our family on.

To me, what it all boils down to is sacrifice. From the get go, Mark and I asked ourselves how much we'd be willing to give up in order to raise our family the way we felt God was calling us to raise it. Without hesitation, we both agreed that we'd be willing to do anything in attempt to follow through with this enormous responsibility God has given us. And undoubtedly, there has been more than one occasion where He has forced us to live up to this commitment.

I think I've found that a lot of the things I think I need, I really don't. After all, they are just things. (Ok, the bug man coming out really would be nice...) Being "poor", I suppose, keeps me from indulging in things that really aren't necessary. And lets be honest here, Mark and I are actually rich compared to most of the rest of the world! And in these first few years of marriage and parenthood, not having plenty of money at our disposal has taught me how to be willing to give up what I want for what's best for our family. I certainly hope that in the years to come when we are making money and do have a little cash on hand, I will remember these years and rely on these lessons to continue the gift of sacrifice for our family. And hopefully teach our kids the value of the gift of sacrificial love!

And as an added bonus, not having much money has totally helped me hone my cheapskate, coupon clipping, bargain shopping skills. In fact, over the past two days, I managed to make my own laundry detergent from a recipe I got online. We'll see how well it works! It literally costs less that one tenth of the price to make this detergent than it does to buy the normal detergent found at the store. Even if we had the money, I think I'd have a hard time paying ten times as much for something I know I can make myself. I'll keep you posted...

(my stores of laundry detergent in the garage to last us through the winter!)

Project: De-Clutter

As I write this, the boys and I are hanging out in our "playroom" (aka: half of the garage that I have set up like a playroom with all the toys that take up way too much room inside). While there have been several days in the past few weeks that have hinted at the arrival of fall, today has been the first real day where I could actually smell it. In fact, earlier today while making lunch and doing a little laundry, I opened the back door as well as the garage door to let the cool air blow through the house. I love when it's not exactly cold outside, but the wind is cold. It makes me feel like I can't decide if I should go on a walk or curl up on the couch.

As a woman of constant phases, fall also happens to be the time of year when I hit a sudden urge to clean, re-organize, and de-clutter. I think it goes back to this time two years ago when I began my first bout with nesting. While my mother insisted that nesting 8-10 weeks before my due date was a bad idea, I just had that overwhelming urge to get my house in order. Sure enough, when Kolbe came a whole month early, I was thankful for the urges! Oddly enough, I was also pregnant this time last year. And with my pregnancy with Reagan, I seemed to be in a constant state of nesting. With Mark in Midland the majority of the time, home organization seemed to be one of the things I could do to pass the evenings alone.

But this fall is a little different. No, I'm not pregnant. And thankfully, Mark is not in Midland every night either. Still I've recently had a huge urge to de-clutter our house. I sometimes feel like a cluttered home creates a cluttered mind. Like if all I see is clutter, I'll feel that way too. While Mark hasn't overtly expressed this same sentiment, he does make clever comments like "For every toy Kolbe gets for his birthday we're getting rid of five of his existing ones." (We'll see how that goes...) I can tell he feels the same way I do. Where I used to find myself thinking it was "cute" to group lots of little knick-knacks together on a table, I now covet a completely empty countertop.

I think the thing that gets me the most is that we are a family of FOUR. There are only FOUR people living in this 1400 square foot, 3 bedroom, 2 bath house. (1900 when you include the garage which we DO use as living space from time to time!) I shouldn't be making comments about how we've totally outgrown it already. There are much larger families that live in much smaller homes. To be completely honest, I don't think it's a matter of not having enough space. I think it's a matter of us having way more "stuff" than we need. As my dad once told Mark shortly after we got married, "All that really happens after you get married is you start acquiring 'stuff'." Boy, was he right.

And the bottom line is, I don't want to raise our boys thinking that "stuff" is the way to happiness. We could fill every single nook and cranny of this house with all kinds of material things and they'd never fill the vast amounts of space in the hearts, souls and minds of our kiddos. Those rooms can only be filled with our undivided time, love, and attention: things I so dearly long to give both Reagan and Kolbe.

So maybe this year instead of nesting for the birth of a new baby, I'll spend my few rare spare minutes cleaning up and clearing out both my house and my mind in an effort to truly get down to what matters most.

Public Puking

I think there must be an unwritten "Mom List" floating around somewhere that notates all of the ridiculous things a woman must go through in order to be fully initiated in to motherhood. There have been several times in the past two years where I've found myself thinking Yeah, this has happened to other people I know and here it is happening to me. Things like mastitis. Or pulling an all-nighter because your two kids tag team waking up throughout the night. Or pregnancy constipation. Or being peed on while changing a diaper. Or pooped on, for that matter. Things that are just inevitably going to happen. And I'm pretty sure that having one of your kids puke in public is definitely on that list. As of this past week, I can check it off of mine.

In what was supposed to be a quick trip to Walmart for random toiletries, I found myself encountering this nightmare right around 5:00pm...probably Walmart's finest hour. Reagan was sitting in the shopping cart seat with our darling cart cover surrounding him and Kolb was standing in the actual buggy playing with all the goodies I had thrown in. We stopped on the toothbrush aisle to get Kolb a new brush. Since there were like seventy-five different styles with various age specifications to chose from, I was engrossed in selecting the right one. An older female Walmart employee that didn't speak much English came up on the aisle beside us. Like most older people, she was fascinated with the babies and took a liking to Kolbe. Pleased that I had someone to entertain him for a second so I could focus on my toothbrush hunt, I allowed her to chat away with him. By the time I finally selected a cute one with Eeyore on it, I turned around to find the lady gone and Kolbe with a paper towel in his hand. Just beyond our cart stood a clean up station with a towel dispenser so I assumed the lady must have given him one from there.

Before I had time to realize what was happening I heard Reagan begin to choke. I rushed back over to the cart frantically trying to figure out what was wrong. Sure enough, curled up in his little paw was a scrap of the paper towel. Just as I attempted to grab him from the seat, it happened. Lovely, smelly, chunky mouth fulls of nastiness. Reagan had nursed just before we left the house but this also appeared to include a good portion of his earlier real food meal as well. Dang. Too bad we hadn't held off on solids a little longer. Not just on his clothes, not just on my pretty cart cover, not just on my clothes...but all over the floor too.

And there he sat, smiling up at me. It was as if he was saying, "Ah, that feels so much better! Back to shopping!"

I was filled with so many emotions. Rage: Did that lady seriously give my baby a paper towel!?! Disappointment: Was I seriously not paying attention to a stranger playing with my baby!?! Disgust: Am I seriously standing in the middle of Walmart with puke all over me and my child!?! Humor: Am I seriously standing in the middle of Walmart with puke all over me and my child!?!

Within minutes, the little old lady appeared again and was absolutely mortified that Reagan had choked on the paper towel. Full of apologies, she eagerly helped me clean up the mess and kept asking in her broken English if I was mad at her. I tried as best as I could to explain that babies can't have paper. Hello, doesn't everyone know I'm raising a billy goat!?!

We made our way over to the baby section where I selected a random green t-shirt to change Rudy into. The puke smell was way to overpowering to take him home in what he was wearing. Besides, there was no way I was getting that mess all over my beloved new car seat. Luckily, I had my trusty baby trash bags in my purse and was able to throw all the nasties in there. By the time we made it out of the store, I was completely overwhelmed. If I was a smoker, I would have had one in the parking lot. A drinker and as soon as we got home I would have busted open a cold one.

I've always though myself to be calm, cool, and collected in almost any situation. So why is it that motherhood has managed to turn me in to a total mess of frantic, spaz-out, anxiety filled stress!?! Why in the world would I even go to Walmart at that hour!?! And get that involved in a search for a toothbrush!!! Looking back on the situation, it's quite easy to laugh. While there's certainly a desire to beat myself up about the whole thing, the truth is, I know I'm not the only one this has happened to. Praise God that nothing happened to my little dumpling, and praise him as well for this learning experience for me as a mama. As I confidently strike "public puking" from my unwritten Mom List, I pray that I have the wisdom in the future to avoid the mere occasion of this ever happening again! (whether choking provoked or that other kind of puking that involves multiple episodes in a 24 hour period)

The Mama Scream

In one of the parenting books I'm reading, the writer discusses how you can use different tones and pitches in your voice to help your children distinguish various levels of immediacy or importance while disciplining. At one point he referred to a certain extreme scream that should only be used in times of definite danger. He writes that it's one that you can't practice...it just happens. Pausing, I meandered back through my nearly twenty-three months of motherhood and couldn't recall a time where the extreme scream had broken forth from my mouth. But just two days later, it did.

I was busy getting dressed a few mornings ago and Mark came in and set Reagan on the bed. There he sat giggling and drooling, being the calm little dumpling that he is. Sure enough, in trotted Kolbe, and he quickly climbed up on the bed (a feat he has just recently mastered since our bed is pretty high up). At first the two just giggled at each other as usual but then Kolbe decided to start rolling around. Before I had a chance to dispel the situation, Kolbe rolled directly into Reagan's side, flipping him over several times. That sudden rapid explosion of thoughts that happens in frightful moments fired off in my head. With the nightstand table just inches away from where Reagan's head would hit, I just knew we were about to have an accident. (not to mention that he'd be hitting the floor below) I knew there was no way I'd be able to get to the other side of the bed in time to stop this catastrophe from happening.



And thus, from my mouth the Mama Sceam burst forth in a frantic cry of "Ahhhhh! AHHHHHH!" Just as I reached the bed, Reagan (luckily, missing the night stand table) dropped off the far side of the bed and landed on the floor below. Mark came running in from the kitchen just in time for us both to see Reagan smile up at us with his What? Is something wrong? face. Fortunately, all of the decorative pillows that adorn our bed when it's made were piled right below him. So it wasn't even an accident after all. More like fun for the little guy! Who doesn't want to fall in to a pile of pillows!?!

Still, my heart raced and raced for another five minutes or so after the whole ordeal ended and things were back to normal. I sat on the edge of the bed holding Reagan and rocking him back and forth even though he wasn't upset whatsoever. It's that uncontrollable feeling that I somehow let my baby down, or that I allowed him to get hurt, that gets me. I know it's impossible to be several places at once and equally impossible to prevent every single accident that will happen to my boys in the years to come, but the mama in me still wants to try. I would absolutely lose it if something happened to one of them and it was something that I could have prevented. Even the though of it now sends chills down my spine. I pray all the time that I can protect my little boys when they need it while at the same time give them the room they need to grow independently. Parenting is a stressful job.

Maybe next time I use The Mama Scream it will be for a legitimate reason. But I hope not.

Just His Age

9:00pm, the kids are finally both crashed, and alas, it's me and my (er, Mark's) computer. Oh yeah, and the kiddos I'm tutoring online intermittently. Sounds pretty relaxing for a mom, right? Unfortunately, my heart feels kind of heavy tonight. Not because anything is wrong, and no, nothing horrible has happened. I just find myself worried about my effectiveness as a mama. Yes, I'm able to meet all of my children's basic needs. They never go hungry, I keep them clothed, and they are relatively happy kiddos.

But what everyone is referring to as "just his age" has got me scratching my head with Kolbe. What seemed like the happiest baby in the world has turned in to somewhat of a monster. And by monster I mean a hitting, screaming, biting, throwing, kicking, pinching, poking, tantrum throwing twenty-three pounder. Part of me is a little plagued with guilt. Would Kolbe be acting this way if I hadn't added a little brother to our family just fifteen months after he was born? Technically, he was still a baby when the baby was born. Wait, he still is a baby. Even now. He's still my baby. All twenty-two months of him.

And "just his age" seems like such an excuse. While yes, I must admit that I have seen many a two-year-old act way more ridiculous than mine, I somehow feel like I should have a better handle on things. It often seems like I wake up with a pocket full of "no-nos" ready to throw out at the slightest deviation from appropriate. And this is a high-energy little fella we're talking about here. He's no peaceful, clingy, gentle thing at all. So those deviations from appropriate tend to be constant.

The baby brother just seems to add to the problems. All of the sudden, Reagan is a real person. He's not just the tiny baby that mama held and fed frequently and slept the rest of the time. He's a real boy. One that plays with Kolbe's toys. One that looks so inviting to poke and prod. One that takes Mama's attention. One that cries when Kolbe hits him. I think it's the response that Kolbe's going for. And considering I'm Reagan's mama too, I'm ever so often torn between wanting to defend Reagan (scene 1: Kolbe kits Reagan. Mama glares over at Kolbe and for a split second wants to grab him by the ear and toss him out the back door.) and wanting to see things through Kolbe's eyes and understand why he's acting out. Such a fine line.

But some of it has nothing to do with the baby brother at all. Some of it is just plain old bad. Did I just say that? My kid? Plain old bad? As much as I strive to be the perfect parent, yes, sometimes my darling little Kolb can be plain old bad. For example, scene 2: setting- our home, very first thing in the morning. Kolbe wanders in to Mama and Dada's room and after lots of cuddles and "good morning, Kolbe!"s, the day begins.
Mama: Lets go change your diaper, Kolbe.
Kolbe: NO!
Mama: Well, it's not an option, you're really soggy so we've got to get a new one.
Kolbe: NO!
(Kolbe runs full speed from room after hitting Mama's leg. Mama wipes sleep from eyes and stumbles as she grabs Kolbe by the arm. Full tantrum mode begins.)

I'm sure you can get what I'm saying. And no, this doesn't happen every single morning. And no, it's not always about the diaper. Sometimes it's about getting dressed. Sometimes it's about eating breakfast. Or getting in the car. Or putting toys away. I'm sure some of you more seasoned mothers are chuckling and thinking what a fool! She's letting this little pip-squeak rule the roost! And yes, I realize that I am the boss and options aren't a necessity. But I am not an experienced mom. I'm learning as I go. And I am completely entitled to my own believes about how I want to parent my children. And even though I get it fairly frequently from people I don't want to get it from, I'm not seeking all kinds of unsolicited advice. I just want to feel like my efforts aren't in vain. And I don't want to be one of those mothers who is all over my kids. I don't want to hand out all the no-nos my pockets seemed to be filled with. Where is the line between when to discipline and when to just let it go??? And will there ever come a point when Kolbe just chooses to do the right thing because he wants to please me??? (wouldn't that be nice!...actually it is nice. He does do it. Every once in a blue moon.)

The truth is, I love my two boys and my husband more than anything else on this Earth. They are the world to me. So I want to know that I am doing right by them. I hate sitting here wondering if all my efforts are enough. Or even if I'm making the right efforts. Since Kolbe is the one weighing heavy on my heart, I feel like I want to make sure I'm doing everything in my power to give him everything he needs. Sure, I know without a shadow of a doubt that discipline issues are going to creep up regardless of how phenomenal of a parent I am. Kids have to act out in order to learn what's right and wrong. It's just a whole lot, all of a sudden and I feel like I want to get a hold of it before it gets out of control. I guess this is just the perfectionist coming out in me. And truth be told, I'm sure the greatest amount of changing that needs to be done is changing within me.

God gave these two precious little boys to Mark and me for a reason. It's up to us to raise them the absolute best way we can and hope that it's enough. I pray that it will be. Because I'm not okay with the "just his age" mentality. Kolbe is my son. He's my first attempt at being a mama...the mama I always dreamed of being. Kolbe may be knocking on the doorstep of two, but that doesn't mean that he and the rest of our family has to suffer through this growing phase in such a negative light. It's my mission to make two...and even three!...a positive experience. I've armed myself with several tools, the most important and effective being prayer! Lots of support from Mark and many others certainly helps too. I'm also currently reading The Discipline Book by Dr. William and Martha Sears and have about three other books on not only raising children but raising Catholic children too that are begging to be read. (I'd like to add margaritas to the list of tools but don't quite have the money to afford them on a regular basis so instead I'll include chocolate.) It blows my mind how many things I want to do correctly and how little time I have to figure it all out! Thank God this is a learn-as-you-go profession! And thank God for my precious boys.

Hello, World!

When I started our little family blog (The Asmussen Family) a little over a year ago, I had every intention of telling all of the wonderful little stories of motherhood that take place in our home daily. Over time, however, the blog turned in to a family scrapbook/journal of sorts. It basically chronicles the "big" events that happen with our family and pays little attention to the true realities of a stay-at-home-mom household.

So alas, I have decided to start a new blog. One focusing on the truth about motherhood (or at least my truth). I think people tend to picture it only as the wonderful, beautiful thing that it is. But the truth is, there are times when motherhood is hard. Really hard! And not that my thoughts and opinions are special or anything, but there are times when I think that simply being able to get them off my chest will help make the journey more enjoyable. Some days things go perfectly and I go to bed feeling like I can conquer the world. Move over June Cleaver! And others I spend beating myself up about the smallest things. Either way, I'm here to share the stories of my heart--the ones that revolve not only around my kiddos and husband, but around me too!

So what's in a name? One night while contemplating what I'd call this blog that I have been planning to create for months, I heard a clip of someone taking an oath on television. Naturally, it ended with "so help me God." I began to think about the journey of motherhood and it's similarities to an oath. The second we become parents we commit to raising our children regardless of the cost to us. Physically, mentally, and spiritually we take an oath to do our absolute best to give our children all they need. Parenthood (like marriage, I suppose) is an ultimate oath. Furthermore, I couldn't help but connect to the words "so help me God" in a spiritual way as well. I can't tell you how many times, with both babies vying for my attention, I've cried out silent little prayers of help from God. Literally, in so many ways motherhood is a giant plea of "SO HELP ME, GOD!" I couldn't resist this title so here we are. On another note, when I was adding the blog to my blogroll in Blogspot, sohelpmegod was already taken. So was sohelpmegod1 and sohelpmegod2. Thus, I was stuck with sohelpmegod3. Although I was slightly disappointed at first (especially since the three others have nothing on them if you look them up), I was suddenly struck with the connection of the number 3 and God. Not only am I asking for help from God...but all THREE parts of the Holy Trinity as well! Father, Son, and Holy Spirit! Ok, slightly nerdy of me, I know, but I liked the connection.

So here we go. Rational or not, these are the stories of my home. The stories of my heart. The stories of our hopes and dreams, tragedies and triumphs, frustrations and joys. Welcome to my home, world!