Dear Santa

I wish I still believed in Santa. It would give me a reason to snap out of this grumpy as hell very bad mood. I remember when I found out Santa wasn't real. I was on the school bus and these 3 girls were discussing it and I chimed in and said, "I heard the rumors, but I don't think it's true!" As if my enormous bushy eyebrows, braces, acne, and self-cut bangs weren't enough, I had to open my mouth. I am pretty sure I didn't ever have a friend after that moment. I also learned it's better to just agree with whatever the popular girls are saying and follow behind them nodding, smiling and fanning them.

I feel bad for my kids sometimes because my mom made Christmas really special growing up. I would venture to say it is her favorite holiday. She decorated the house, and the days leading up to it were fun and spent with anticipation of whether I would get that American Girl doll bed. Good times. I don't know how she did it because I now realize Christmas coincides with what I like to refer to as "the dark time" in NFL football wife life - December. It is the last few games and I am holding on to my sanity by a thread. One of those threads that you see fraying and you know it only has like 4 little frays left before it snaps and it all comes crumbling down. It would probably sound a smidge dramatic if you didn't know me but for my close friends they are all probably nodding with a sly smile because they have seen me on the verge of a breakdown since about Thanksgiving.

It has been months since I have spent a good amount of time with my husband. When he gets home now the first thing I do is usually smell him for about 10 seconds because I miss him so much. I also want to kill him because he is gone so much, because I am crazy, and a girl. I have been going to doctor appointments, the grocery, the gym, trips and long car rides with my 2 kids alone since mid July. The season starts with a bang of adrenalin which, thank God, catapults me straight through to Halloween. After that things start to get a bit hazy. It's pure survival mode by whatever means necessary. It is for this reason that I decided it would be fun to make a true "wish list" for Christmas. Some are more realistic than others.

1. A full night of sleep.
My kids just turned 4 and 2. So this whole waking up in the middle of the night thing is thankfully not a regular thing, but by golly it still happens. Just last night my 2 year old was up several times. Of course I have no earthly idea why. I think he just gets entertainment out of seeing me stumble into his room. I made the rare mistake last night of bringing him into our bed, which I never do. It's like sleeping with a hot octopus. Kudos to you co-sleeper parents. I wouldn't do it for $1,000 a night. I begin talking to him like an adult after awhile, muttering, move over and stop breathing on me. How is this enormous king-sized bed suddenly 3 inches wide? Has his breath always smelled this terrible? How is he sweating so much? I wish he would stop slapping me. No matter which way I lay he kicks me directly in the uterus. I want this to be over but if we get up to start the day at 4 a.m. I can't promise I won't run away.

2. A date night with a husband who is not working off of 5 months of 3 hours of sleep a night.
I love my husband and the fact that he is even willing to go on date nights during the season when I know he just wants to go home and watch Scandal with a Blue Moon in bed and fall asleep. He is a saint and I love him more every year I am married to him. However, at this point, I know he is getting an average of 3-4 hours of sleep a night and I feel so guilty expecting him to squire me around town that I don't even enjoy it.

3. A play date with Princess Kate. I mean the duchess. I mean Catherine. WHATEVER SHE WANTS TO GO BY - THE NEXT QUEEN OF ENGLAND, WHO I AM OBSESSED WITH.
She's in New York which really just makes this dream seem so possible and real. It's probably best for the Royal Security Team that I do not live in New York, because I can't promise you that I wouldn't look up every detail of their trip and be at every point looking for a lazy security guy to look away. I just know she would like me. We could chit chat about what microwavable macaroni we give the kids for lunch and how she is feeling about having baby number 2. I can also ask her what it's like to be a Princess and she can let me borrow that super fancy black stroller that looks like it's out of the Mary Poppins movie. Maybe she would even let me borrow that nanny she has for baby George. That lady looks so serious about her nanny job. I bet she would let me take a legit nap. Friends share nannies right?

4. A kegerator of boxed wine that never runs out.
The only thing more embarrassing than buying boxed wine is having to go back after a very short amount of time to buy more boxed wine. It would be nice to just have a constant flow in my fridge, kind of like the water and ice maker (which we actually don't have, we rent and our fridge is from 1982, it's a problem.) Come to think of it I would also like a hangover cure. I don't know if it is my mom diet of mac and cheese and smoothies or the fact that I am now 31 and 1/2 but if I even smell wine I have a little headache the next day. If I brush up against the box of wine in the fridge I feel tired. I would really appreciate a little magic pill that allows me to have 2 glasses of wine at 6:30 and not feel like I got run over by an ice cream truck the next day.

5. Jeans that make my muffin top disappear.
There are people somewhere working on this right? Like some sort of team that is put together by the government that is always working towards this goal? What's scary is that I can start to see this whole metabolism dropping as I age thing. In addition to the jeans, I would like to tack on my 19 year old metabolism. I used to eat a dinner in the dining hall and follow it up with a "light snack" of half a pizza and 3 Smirnoff ices at 10 p.m. and I have to say, my bootie back then was great. What happened to my life? I have to eat cucumbers and spinach salads for a week if I want to wear anything but leggings and a huge denim shirt on the weekend.

6. A weekend with my mommy. 
My parents recently moved to Cape Cod and I miss them every day. I was very spoiled living near them for a long time, and I would never have guessed what a momma's girl I am. I miss how she listened to every word I said, even when I was annoying, which I am sure was a lot. I miss shopping with her, venting to her, getting a last-minute dinner together when the guys were working late. But most of all I miss the way she loved on my kids. Nobody spoils our kids better than their grandparents, on both sides, and I am so thankful for them.

May you enjoy a Merry Christmas celebrating Jesus' birth, and if you see Princess Kate, slip her my number.
xoxo Big Mama

Day in the Life

I have all these goals to blog more but quite frankly the only thing that I want to do when my kids finally fall asleep and give me a break is lay in my bed in an enormous t-shirt and underwear and watch 19 Kids and Counting or any version of the Real Housewives franchise. I don't know why this brings me peace but it does and I don't even care if it's embarrassing. I am relaxed and for those 47 minutes, my mind gets to shut off.

The reason I want to blog more is that it makes me feel good. I feel that I am using these neurons in my brain that don't get used when I am with my kids. I feel bad saying that. I know that the job I am doing every minute of every day is the most important one. I also feel very lucky because I do want to be a stay at home mom, and I do want to be with my kids. But Lord have mercy it's hard. I hope to God I am raising decent human beings that will one day contribute to society and marry someone that only thinks I am a little crazy, and the good kind of crazy at that.

So in addition to the fact that my large t-shirt and the Duggars always win out on my "me time," I usually am not quite sure what to blog about. "Just write about your every day life," friends say. Ok. So here was just my morning.....

6 a.m.
Brooks wakes up at some point in the night and moves to sleep in the hallway. There are obviously monsters in his closet, and he likes to do this because then he hears Zac getting ready for work at 5:30 a.m. in our guest bathroom. He gets up and dresses himself and they get to hang for 20 minutes before he has to go to work. He then eats captain crunch and watches Sponge Bob Square Pants by himself until he hears Luke wake up, and comes to get me. If I am lucky he wakes me up by putting 2 tiny fingers on an upper and lower eyelid and slowly raising my eye open while whispering, "mom, you should get up, your babbbbby is awake." This is nice, when the beginning of my day begins with a slow nightmare. When I think about this little man alone in the morning for this time it makes me sad and feel like a bad mom. But I am exhausted and the difference between waking up at 5:55 and 7 a.m. is the difference between me being nice mommy and crazy mommy.

6:59 a.m.
Luke wakes up like clockwork. I think he has a tiny watch in his room and he laughs at the fact that he will never sleep past 7 a.m. I change his diaper which is somehow the weight of 3 small children and I make a mental note to invent better diapers so I can be a millionaire. I kindly ask him not to kick me so hard in the uterus (and only clench my teeth a little while doing so) while I put his clothes on because I may want another child and I would rather the reason I can't have any more not be that my child kicked me in the uterus every day for a whole year. It is absolutely insane how much power a toddler can have when he is laying down and round-house kicking you. It is also crazy how they can suddenly weigh 120 lbs when they go dead weight in a grocery store. These are the mysteries of the world that cannot be explained.

7:03 a.m.
I turn the Keurig coffee machine on and hand Luke one of three or four bananas he will eat throughout the day while researching "can my kid eat too many bananas" as well as "is potassium overload a real thing" on my phone. I look at the clock on the stove and calculate how long it is until I can drop my kids off at the gym for my 2 hours of alone time workout.

7:14 a.m.
I feel guilty that my kids are always watching t.v. in the morning so I suggest we do puzzles and we all lay on the floor and get out a couple. I drink my coffee and we do puzzles and giggle for something like 17 whole minutes. We are all happy and I get the feeling that I am the best mom in the world. At least top 10.

8:30 a.m.
I pace the kitchen debating whether to have a third cup of coffee and have a wave of mom guilt because I suppose at any moment I could be pregnant (I am not) and this kid would definitely be born hooked on jet fuel keurig k cups. I justify the third cup by also making a smoothie that has some nasty green powder made up of seaweed and all kinds of crap from the earth that's supposed to make me skinny, my hair longer and my body release all the toxins inside of it. It costs like $40 at whole foods and I have no idea if it works. Whole Foods is a trendy mom's crack, and every time I go in there I black out and come out with 2 paper bags and spend exactly $130. I put an extra scoop in because I go through boxed wine at an alarming rate and I definitely need to release dem toxins.

8:59 a.m.
I bark at my children to come to the back door and put their shoes on because we are going to the gym to see their best friends. They have best friends there because we literally never miss a day at our gym and a long time ago they realized they better make friends or this will be a real drag. Thank you sweet Baby Jesus for the gym. They have free childcare, kind workers, and I eat a lot of macaroni, so I must run. I wait impatiently at the door for my children who I am pretty sure are in the bathroom eating toothpaste and all of a sudden Brooks sprints around the corner screaming "Mom, your underwear were stuck to my shorts that I want to wear, ahhhhhhhh this is soooooo crazy!!!!" This makes Luke laugh hysterically and even though I know he doesn't get the situation I feel I should probably start putting away some money for the therapy they will inevitably have because my underwear was static clung onto their shorts.

9:15 a.m.
I drop my kids off at the YMCA. I love you so much workers. I have 2 hours, 120 minutes, of pure bliss. I put my time on the sheet 10 minutes later than I actually arrive in case I want to extend my limited alone time for the day, or actually pee without an audience. This is technically a lie, but I am scatterbrained and I only glanced at the clock and "got the short and long time handle mixed up." Silly me. I need that extra 10 minutes like you need oxygen, people. Yesterday Brooks told me I used too much toilet paper while I used the restroom and I could really do without the second-by-second commentary.

9:17 a.m.
I exercise in peace and feel guilty about how I wanted to be alone. My kids aren't that bad! Or do I only feel like that because they are not with me at this very second? I think about all the ways I could be a better mom and promise not to feed them goldfish or McDonalds in the car for lunch. I mentally go through my to-do list and start to panic for a second. I think my heart skips a beat and I have to try hard to not research "heart palpitations in moms" on my phone. I decide to focus my attention on the weird man in leggings who is doing box jumps. I don't think I could jump over a shoe box right now and this man is literally flying through the air all over the gym floor. I consider going over to ask him for whatever drug he is clearly on. Instead I continue moving at minus speed on the elliptical. Even though I had 90 oz of coffee I feel like I am moving my body through mud. If I didn't eat so much cheese I could leave this God foresaken place. I curse you, dairy. Just kidding I love you so much, forget what I said.

11:15 a.m.
I go to pick my kids up at the gym kid care. I am excited to see them, It's really nice. I tell them we are going to the dollar store for the favors for Brooks' birthday party later in the day and you would think I told them we are getting 8 ponies. I then realize how sad our life is. They begin to chant "dollar store," and it's getting louder and people are looking, so I rush them out to the car.

11:33 a.m.
I arrive to the dollar store and as usual, I have to go to the bathroom so bad I don't think I could even count to 10. This is the problem with my mom bladder. I either never have to use the restroom again in my life, or I am currently peeing my pants. I tell Brooks and Luke that I have to go to the bathroom extremely urgently and Brooks rolls his eyes and says to Luke "here we go again." I choose to ignore the comments and pull my children's arms out of their sockets across the parking lot so that I get to the bathroom in time.

11:42 a.m.
Meltdown in the Dollar Store while I try to pick out party favors. My son needs the birthday card that says "Happy 40th" or he will literally lose his mind. One lady pats me on the back and says "it gets better, but not for about 10 years." I consider sitting down and crying but I have to buck up because nap time is soon and there is a chance I will get to bang my head against the wall alone. I go into survival mode and let the boys each pick out some food from a shady aisle that somehow has 30 brands of chips, but none I have ever heard of. Where are these made and packaged, I wonder? The expiration is shockingly far away and my kids are eating flaming hot Cheetos and canned mandarin oranges in the cart. People have begun to stare and whisper but I am so close to done. I start throwing baby wipes at them and head for the checkout.

12:43 p.m.
My voice is raising and the boys can sense the tension. I have already changed into my large t-shirt and they know the drill and begin to retreat closer to their rooms.

Maybe I will write about my afternoon tomorrow. If I don't, you can bet your mama's heirlooms that I am watching some Housewives in a large t-shirt.
xoxo Big Mama

Struggles on the Mom Job

As a mom of two toddlers whose husband works a lot of hours in the fall, my issues always seem magnified during football season because I am alone so much more. My job is to keep us alive and entirely run the household from July 23 until post-season, and sometimes it ain't easy. Here are my job problems.......

1. Trying to get a ladies night organized
The level of difficulty on getting several moms to be able to go to Chili's for a meal and 2 glasses of wine is so astronomically high it's actually quite unbelievable you ever see mom's out at the same place at the same time, sans children. Anytime you see a group of moms from this moment forward, I suggest you go over to the table, whisper to them, I am thankful for this small miracle you organized, and buy them a vat of chardonnay. This is kind of like the desperate moms version of the Starbucks pay it forward thing that's happening right now. Since late July through January means I am completely without the luxury of having my husband actually watch the kiddos, the first challenge lies in all the ladies getting a sitter. Thank God we have the most amazing babysitters on the planet who I want to hug one million times every time I see them (and sometimes I do). Once I secure a warm body to watch my children get a babysitter, we all agree on a meeting time and a place, and I force my love handles into jeans that don't fit me but I refuse to get rid of. It's at this time that I can almost guarantee one of my children will decide to either puke or blow a wad of snot. It is typically 3-7 minutes before "D-Day," i.e., sitter arrival, also known as the moment I sprint out of the door and peel out of the driveway like a bank robbery scene. I think they huddle up while I am getting dressed and decide which one will do it. I never see it coming and it is often disguised as a hug coming at me, only to be met with bodily fluids at the last second. At this point the one top in my closet that didn't make me want to get into the fetal position in my closet and cry is ruined. I have literally wiped snot out of my hair, re-blow-dried it, and walked out of the house, all in a very reasonable amount of time. That is why moms are the closest thing to superheros in the whole world. That is also why we all text each other that the first mom there needs to have glasses of wine waiting for the other arrivals at the restaurant. This is called ninja ordering. It can also be referred to as "being the best kind of friend you can be."

2. Trying not to eat 9.872 calories during the afternoon
Most of the time during my kids nap I have a mile-long to do list I am trying to chisel away at. It is always super fun and can include anything from getting caught up on the bills to laundry to spending 17 minutes getting 45 stickers off the kitchen table. During this time I also somehow turn into the hungriest hamster on the planet and lose all self control I ever had. I typically pace the kitchen for a few minutes knowing I should cut up the huge carrots in the fridge and end up settling on 3 enormous bites of cheese from a 1 lb block along with the rest of my kids' macaroni and half a pop tart. I don't sit down for any of it unless maybe I plop in the smack middle of the kitchen floor to finish off the pop tart. I have no idea how this happens and it typically happens in a span of 22 seconds as well. I then spend the rest of the day berating myself that I am absolutely unable to resist dairy and figuring out what workout classes I will have to do at the Y the next day to reverse the damage.

3. Grocery shopping has become my Olympic sport
"Where do you grocery shop" It's a questions moms exchange often. Walk past a group of moms chatting at the gym or the park and you're likely to hear them discussing the buy-one-get-one deals at the store or the super-cheap diapers in the clearance section that have been marked down because they were manufactured wrong. At half the price, we don't care if the latch for the right side of the diapers is completely lopsided. Oh, the filling in these diapers might give my whole family a rash? Well we are risk takers and they are 17 cents off so I am gonna wing it. We are hungry for a deal and we will drive all over town (using gas which makes the deal no longer a deal) looking for it, darn it!

So since I don't have monthly goals and meetings like a typical office manager might, grocery shopping and deals are my sport. I have a couple bones to pick with you though, grocery stores of America. Why can you only buy paper towels in quantities of 1 or 100? And why do paper towels suddenly seem like the most ginormous thing I have ever seen when I have 2 kids in the cart and one is alternating eating cookies and throwing them at other customers and the other is hanging off the back of the cart like a surfboard. It's at this moment that I would like just 4 paper towel rolls please, not 1, because it'll be gone by dinner, and not 100, because holding them on top of my head so my kids can fit in the cart is sort of embarrassing.

4. Hugging my kids enough
When you're the only parent your kid sees for several days at a time, it's natural to worry if you hugged them enough. It's not like he's getting 10 other hugs from dad, so I often times go to bed wondering if I squeezed them enough and kissed them as many times as I could have. But ya know what? As a mom, sometimes I just do not want to be touched. And by sometimes I mean that it would be kind of nice to not be touched until Christmas. Can I ask for that for Christmas? At a normal job, it's actually probably prohibited to touch your coworkers, and written into many handbooks. There is a reason for this. At my job, I get touched to be woken up (usually my almost 4 year old comes into the room and heavily breathes for about 20 seconds, then lifts my eyelids open and tells me he is worried that we haven't found all the dinosaur teeth that are buried in the world. I need a coffee pot in my bedroom). 2 minutes later I have 4 yogurt covered hands all over my body. I don't know how but somehow a 2 ounce yogurt is suddenly covering the only clean workout clothes I have and I put back on the clothes from yesterday that haven't been washed. I can't remember the last time I was at a kitchen sink doing dishes and there wasn't someone pulling on my feet. Why do they seem like they weigh 450 pounds at that moment? It's like 8 kettle bells are pulling me down to the ground while I rinse out an egg pan. My kids latest thing is if I am low enough to the ground they love to touch my face. I HATE TO HAVE MY FACE TOUCHED. Good thing I love you you little gremlins. Their clammy little hands stroke my cheeks building up break outs and all I can think is, well they're probably not being hugged enough. Dear mom guilt, go away because I don't like you. xo Sarah

5. Getting the kids to go to bed
Obviously this is the most important part of my life. There is no more important block of time in my current existence than the 2 times of day I try to get 2 human beings to fall asleep. You need the sleep, I need the sleep, go to freaking sleep. This fall I have been a little more relaxed about bedtime and it has been a little easier since we have been so busy. But nap time remains the struggle of the century and at 1:00 in my house there is a hostage situation going on with the stress level of nuclear war. We are almost always coming home from a busy morning and my entire physical being is geared towards getting their sweaty little hands stroking my nose into their beds. It is at this time that they get a huge burst of energy and can be seen running around the house banging their heads on the wall. Suddenly they seem so heavy and my body is weak from climbing the tiny stairs at the park 987 times. My legs are giving out and I even have a cramp in my bones but I must go on because I am so close to my huge bites of cheese in the kitchen followed by folding laundry while nobody touches me. I make deals with little people in these moments I always regret. Ice cream at McDonald's, trips to the Dollar store, yes you can have a fruit snack before dinner, I DON'T CARE, just close your eyes so I can go scarf my cheese.

It's week 7 of the NFL season, so by calculations I have about 9+ weeks left to figure out how to get my kids to walk in the door and put themselves to bed, and for Target to sell me paper towels in quantities of 2. I will keep you posted.
xoxo Big Mama

The worst week ever

It's Monday. That means it's a brand new week. That means I am going to pretend last week just never happened at all.

Last Sunday I learned our little family has a file at the Emergency room. If you are wondering how you can accomplish this, just visit your local Emergency Room no less than 5 times in the 2 year span you live somewhere and I am sure they will give you one too. Super fun bragging rights.

The worst week ever began like any other normal Sunday. I was letting the boys play while I quickly ran in my room to get dressed for the YMCA before church. In the 3 minutes I was pulling on my workout clothes the boys were in the room and my older son Brooks came yelling for me that Luke was eating something. Well Luke eats everything so that didn't really set off my alarm trigger. Until Brooks came to me with one of the little tiny finger lights he loves to play with from the dollar store. He had taken it apart and was holding 1 tiny battery. It was then that he told me that there were 3 batteries and Luke had eaten 2 of them. PANIC MODE.

I went into complete crazy mom and we were at the ER in about 7 minutes I think. By the time I got there I had prayed the whole way and God had given me some peace about the whole situation which is crazy. I had been once before when I was convinced Luke swallowed a dime and they ended up not finding anything. So I think at that point I really thought they weren't going to find anything and we would still make church.

There is so no worse feeling in the entire world than thinking you failed your kids. My entire day is devoted to their well being. Staying home brings a lot of pressure, which is why if you're kid is being a real jerk one day you want to bang your head against the wall, because that is a bad work day. So when they wheeled the little x-ray machine over and immediately find the 2 tiny circle batteries in Luke, I had a total breakdown. It was not pretty. I felt horrible that I had left them for a minute in Brooks' room even though I had done that a million times before and I still feel like they should be able to play together in there (since then I have baby-proofed like you wouldn't believe, the only things left to play with are dinosaurs the size of their heads.)

So as I was bawling like an idiot in the ER about 4 training ER students come over and decide this is the right time to observe our little wing. They learn about all our past visits, take a few minutes to learn about the current situation, and decide they will probably not have kids ever. But seriously I am really thankful for those students because they entertained Brooks and allowed me to pull it together to hear about our next move. I was shocked to learn they weren't going to go in to Luke with some inspector gadget like device and pull those puppies out of there. But since they could tell they were completely intact and past the stomach, almost out, they said that we will just wait for them to "exit." I went home with tons of rubber gloves ready to go through Luke's poop looking for batteries. All the while, my husband is at work in NFL training camp with no ability to leave. Ay carumba.

So we headed home and I immediately began feeding Luke fruit, fiber one bars, anything. He didn't end up passing the batteries until the next morning......right after I got my first round of an EMERGENCY ROOT CANAL. Hence the worst week ever.

That evening, as if I was going to sleep a wink anyway, knowing 2 tiny batteries were swishing around in my babies belly, I had an insane sharp pain in my tooth begin about 11 p.m. It got progressively worse every hour until finally at 5 a.m., I called our dentist's emergency hotline. Yes that's right. I called the dentist emergency hotline. I am so embarrassed to admit that but I had 2 babies without an epidural and this pain was worse! I called the office in a panic, they said there was an emergency hotline, and I called it. Turns out it was my sweet dentist's home line and I am sure his wife didn't appreciate the psychopath on the other end of the phone saying that if I didn't get some pain relief I was going to be forced to pull my own tooth out with a tweezers or research his address and come on over. Luckily my doctor knows me and all my crazy and calmly said he would get to the office by 7:30 a.m. and that I should be there. Luckily I have an amazing friend Jessica who was at my house by 7 a.m. to watch my kids so I could go.

So I hate the dentist. I hate it more that roll of mom flap that goes over my jeans when I lean across the table for bread. I hate it more than nights when my toddler takes 72 minutes to go to bed because he is afraid he is going to miss a call from the President of Africa about the safety of Zebras. I hate it more than spending 60 dollars on diapers when I really want a new dress from Target. I really do not like enjoy the dentist. That being said, I do love my actual dentist because he is kind and he understands I am a big fat baby who doesn't want to be there and he calls in a hygienist to hold my hand while he does that horrible shot on my mouth. I always feel bad when I tell him I would rather be anywhere else in the world than sitting in that chair. He takes it like a man and says I know, this will be fast.

Turns out I had a very infected molar and it was so bad it took TWO appointments to get it worked out. How trashy am I? Not only do I have an infected tooth but it was so bad he couldn't even get through it in one appointment. I feel like I have the teeth of an old English woman. My poor husband who works so hard just to keep my rotting teeth in my head. I swear I brush my teeth and after a 5-year hiatus from the dentist I have been going every 6 months now for over a year. I have been brushing like a crazy person since last week because I never ever want to have pain like that again! Or someone to tell me I have an infected tooth. Blech blech blech.

So there is my story, worst week ever. So praise the Lord I am off to Cape Cod today to see my family. I am flying with my boys alone so the airport better be stocked up on chardonnaaaay. Go get your teeth cleaned my loves.
xoxo Big Mama

Big Mama's Favorite Granola Bars

I wanted to get a quick blog up today before my kids woke up from their nap but I spent far too much time MAKING MY FACEBOOK FAN PAGE. Yes you read that correctly, and yes, you can have my autograph. I have no idea what I am doing but I am trying to grow my blog so I decided to make a Big Mama Taylor page! I plan to post the crazy weird things that happen to me and the insane things that come out of my kiddos mouths. So come on over to Big Mama's facebook fan page and like it! https://www.facebook.com/BigMamaTaylor

Today I wanted to share one of my very favorite mom-on-the-go recipes. We stay pretty busy here at Casa de Taylor. I try to hit up our local YMCA every day, because they have free childcare, and I get a break and a tighter booty. I am in love with the workers there for loving on my children and giving me a break, and if we miss a day, they send out the search unit. Heaven forbid I miss my daily free child care! Seriously though I do not know what I would do without the Y. We typically have at least one thing going on after the YMCA as well. We meet a friend at the park, go to a movie, or go to the grocery, but we are going all morning. I like to think of my children as hyper pets who need exercise, so I call it "running the boys." So these homemade granola bars have become a staple in my house. I got them off another fabulous mom blog I read, the Marathon Mom! Click around her site because she is amazing! The Marathon Mom Granola Bars

Of course mine do not look nearly as good as the Marathon Mom's but I am ok with that! The first few times I made them exactly according to the recipe and they were so yummy. Definitely give it one try following the Marathon Mom's way because they rock. But over time I have gotten lazy and often just dump the whole jar of coconut oil, natural peanut butter, some flax, and throw in some honey and call it good. I also add way more flax than it calls for because I sorta can't get enough flaxseed in my life. Since I have stopped measuring and just thrown stuff in, they have been a little different every time, but my kids don't seem to mind and they are still yummy! 

Here is Big Mama's version:

Ingredients:

• 1 can of whatever natural peanut butter costs the least and has no added sugar. Just peanuts. (Or almond butter or cashew butter or a combo!)
• Big Dollop of good honey. I read one time that most  mass produced honey in stores now is not true honey from bees and just glorified sugar, so I spend the money on good local honey from hole foods, and just don't use much
• 1 jar of coconut oil
• Bunch of oats (I dump in until a very thick consistency develops, that's hard to stir)
• Bunch of ground flax
• Little bit of chia seeds
• 1 bag of good dark chocolate chips

Instructions: Melt the nut butter, honey and coconut oil in a saucepan. Make sure all the nut butter is completely melted or it will clump. The natural nut butter is hard to melt and takes time. Keep the heat on very low and whisk for 5-10 minutes. Do not let it boil. Remove from heat and add the ground flax, oats, and pecans or walnuts if desired. Spread into a pan that has been buttered or sprayed or lined with parchment paper. Since I don't measure I typically use a large 13x9 pan and sometimes also use an 8x8 pan depending on how much I have. Refrigerate the bars and then cut them with a sharp knife. Store in fridge or freezer. 

When we are running out the door I can't think of anything better than to know we have had a yummy treat that includes protein, good fats in coconut oil, and all the benefits of flax. Happy Baking Y'all!

xoxo Big Mama

Big Mama Out in the World Alone

I traveled this past weekend to one of my best gal pal's weddings. Jenni and I lived together at Marquette for 3 years. If you know anything about me in college you know that this is an amazing feat. We lived in a teeny tiny dorm room our sophomore year, and basically ate little besides microwaved popcorn and spray butter. I am actually not entirely sure how we survived that entire year on spray butter but we did it.

Since Zac is in training camp I traveled to the wedding solo. I have gotten pretty used to hitting all my weddings alone with a hubby who has an intense work schedule. It's not my favorite, but I have to say, when you live in a world catering to 2 toddlers all day, you can find the joy in the little things pretty easily. While I would have rather waited in the airport with my hand on my handsome hubby's thigh, asking him where he would want to go if he could go anywhere in the world, I was very happy to sit at Gate E4 and not have to get anybody goldfish or wipe a booger. 

My mom taught me something very important a long time ago and it was that when you get a break from the kids, be thankful, and don't wish it away. She is so right. In the early stages with our first child, Brooks, I would spend a night away with my husband looking at pictures the entire time and retelling the story about how he blinked and he was probably going to be the smartest baby ever. I would spend the entire break I got pining for the smell of my baby, and rush in the door only to realize 10 minutes later that I already wanted another break. What?! How did this happen? When I was gone I missed him so bad.

Well I got wise. I love my kids and I love my job being a mom. But gosh darnet everyone needs a break to make sure their brain is still working and not stuck on macaroni auto pilot. So now, when someone asks how my kids are, I pretend I can't hear them tell them quickly that they are doing wonderfully, and I get my mom butt to the wedding dance floor where it belongs. I talk about fashion, and things I will never wear. I talk about the Real Housewives, because frankly there's nobody in my house who I can talk to about that. There is no shame in enjoying the kid-free time, and I now treat alone trips to the grocery store like they are weekend excursions to Vegas. Because in the grand scheme of my current life, they kinda are. So if you see me skipping down the aisles in Publix, sorry I'm not sorry. I am having the time of my life.

Yes I love my boys. Yes I love to stay home with them, and devote my entire life to their evolvement. However, the following are a few things that I noted on my weekend getaway that are the best parts of getting a break from mommyhood....

A) 2 hands on the coffee mug: My kids can spend 20 minutes straight not needing my attention in the morning but the second they see me pick up my scorching cup of hot coffee they are both hanging off my leg like I have been missing for 72 hours. I am also now at the stage with crazy boys where I have turned around with a cup of hot coffee in my hand to a boy screaming "Mom catch!" Catch a football, catch a dinasour, catch a handful of blocks. Catch this shirt that I accidentally peed all over (working on aim here people). Just catch. We expect you to catch this crap while you hold your coffee. Oh and it's not even 7 a.m. yet so look alive sista. Both mornings while I was away, I held my coffee cup with a death grip and 2 hands out of habit. I realized this the first morning as I looked down and noticed the white knuckles surrounding my sweet coffee. So I took a moment and cried silently, happily into my coffee. I talked to it a little bit and told it how much I loved it. And I drank the whole thing. While it was hot. Then I cried some more.

B) Sleeping is glorious: Pretty sure I am not the only household that is like this. I wake to the sound of one of my children's nose hairs moving out of place. Yes. Just the wind, moving a nose hair, will wake me up. My husband could sleep through a tsunami from our pool in our backyard. Every night. This is not to say he is a bad husband. With both children, he gave me breaks at my hormonal tipping point anytime I needed, sleeping in the guest room so that he could hear the baby cry while I soaked up my first 5 hours of straight sleep in months. He could see the writing on the wall when he would come home from work and I would tell him how I would probably have to murder him in his sleep if I didn't get to string together a nap. He did it all in the name of a sane wife and he never once said no to helping me. But goodness gracious where do I learn how to sleep like a husband? I have had both children screaming in the night and I wake up in a complete panic, completely drenched in sweat (when do the hormones stop?), running to their bedroom before I am even aware my body is moving. Meanwhile, my husband is in the deepest REM sleep of his life, sleeping with an actual smile on his face. I have no idea how he pulls this off. Of course I have woken him up, only to yell at him for sleeping so wonderfully. I am jealous and it's all I can do not to scream right in his ear that his children are awake. But I'll handle it. Just wanted him to be aware of this 2 a.m. situation. However, when I travel, those itty bitty voices and sneezes and crying are no longer there. It's just me, and a bed. And covers I didn't have to wash or change. So I pull the blankets up to my chin, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief, for tonight I will get one REM cycle of sleep. And it will be magical.

C) Wardrobe Options: You really don't know living until you are getting dressed and think, ahhh, I don't have to worry if anyone is going to smear peanut butter on this outfit! Who cares if I can't even bend over in these jeans - I won't have to pick up a 40 lb bag of sugar 100 times today! I can wear whatever I want!! Before I had kids, I truly thought that I would be that mom at the park in the cute silk sundress, gold flats, hair perfectly curled in tendrils with just enough lipgloss one swipe of mascara. Less than 1 year in I owned so many yoga pants I could probably go 3 months and still be in a clean rotation. My mascara is either non existent or weeks old and crusted on there for life. Listen people, playing at the park I get SWEATY, and I need clothes that can ABSORB MOISTURE, or else mama ain't gonna be happy. On any typical errand, someone is more likely to puke or spit on me then they are likely to NOT puke or spit on me. So gross, unwashed, outdated workout clothes are just the smarter option. Dreams of being a cute mom are gone. I am workout mom, and there is a solid chance I am going to flick my kids booger off of my top, and wear this shirt again tomorrow.

D) Haha. That's not my kid game: One of my favorite things to do in these travel situations is actually find children in total and complete meltdown mode and watch for 10-15 seconds, just to remind myself how lucky I am in that moment. Because I have been in said meltdown situations, I feel I can do this without sounding like a horrible person. I have had my younger child completely melt down on a bathroom floor, flailing his body around like a tornado, swirling and slowly mopping up every germ on the bathroom floor, in a bathroom so gross you consider not actually going to the bathroom because you fear you might actually touch a microscopic part of the door or toilet or sink. My kid has been the swiffer of a public restroom. I have watched Brooks rest a lollipop on the rim of the toilet seat in a restaurant bathroom, and pick it back up to eat. In my defense I was changing Luke on a changing table and I could not leave the child abandoned. And yes, I yelled "Don't eat the lollipop." Last fall I traveled with Brooks and Luke alone to Oklahoma and Brooks ate old chewing gum out of the barf bag in our seat. I asked him where he got the gum, and he said, it was in this present bag they left for us. OMG. You think that 20/20 special on what's really lurking on the hotel comforters is gross? This isn't even 1/10 of my germ stories. Throw me a gallon of that hand sanitizer because I have earned this judgement. And I will help you get on the plane with your crazy animals because I have been there. 

Next time you are alone out in that big world alone Mamas, dress the part. Wear the jeans that you can't sweat in. Drink your coffee slowly and peacefully. Catch those Zzzs hard. And be glad that's not your kid who is biting you on the shoulder while you board your plane. This is your time sister. Enjoy it.

xoxo Big Mama

P.S. I had a few gal pals message me asking where we got the robes we wore to get ready. They were a gift from the bride and I LOVE them! Thought they were so fun and different. Jenni told me they were from the new Anthropologie Bridal line, which I am now obsessed with. The patterns are different but here is a link to the robes they currently have. Anthro Bridesmaid Robe

Go to bed.

Bedtime. I don't know a single parent on the planet that actually enjoys this night time ritual. At 7:30 p.m., I am tired. My patience has reached the end of the line. I have picked up 345 toys, wiped bottoms, sang songs, and explained how rocks are made all day long. I have nothing left except an extreme desire to be in my pajamas watching the Real Housewives of New York reunion. And all of a sudden my 3 year old Brooks has more energy than 57 toddlers who have been fed Mountain Dew for 2 hours.



I would say that about 90% of nights, I climb into my bed after putting my kids to sleep and question if I cuddled them enough, read enough books, answered enough questions. I wish I could put them to bed at 7 a.m., when my patience is new, and not so worn. But the fact of the matter is, at 7:30 p.m., I just can't answer any more questions about why some days you have boogers and some days you don't. BECAUSE YOU JUST DO.



I have mastered the ability to slink out of bed undetected like an overweight sloth. I have kept my mouth shut even when I have stepped on a myriad of cars as I exit the room, and the pain is piercing through my foot. I have placed a pillow on top of my child's back to simulate a parent's arm. I have considered administering benedryl to an especially wound up child. I haven't done it, but gosh darn it I have been close. I have promised trips to the Dollar Store the next day and lollipops for breakfast. All in the name of going to gosh darn BED.



My kiddo has a wild imagination and I have no idea where he gets half the stuff he comes up with. I have been tracking some of the excuses for prolonging bedtime for awhile. The following are actual reasons my 3 year old has told me he can't go to bed/fall asleep/release me from parent prison.



1. A hammerhead shark has horrible headaches and he is worried that he might somehow get a horrible headache someday like a hammerhead shark.



2. The President of Africa might call him. Apparently they have a very serious situation in Africa regarding Emus. He won't expand. I am not curious. He must wait up for call.



3. He doesn't remember if he went pee pee in the potty all day. Seems to be stressing him out. Remind him of several times including a time when he almost fell in at Target. Begins to get more frustrated that I remember and he does not. Situation escalates.



4. His brother started to tell him a joke at dinner and he didn't get to finish it because I interrupted. His brother currently speaks 4 words, 5 if you count "du." None of these words are jokes.



5. There are witches in his closet making banana bread and the mixer is keeping him up. Also they are cackling, but he doesn't mind that so much.



6. He forgot to eat the last bite of cereal this morning. I explain that cereal has been thrown away and he will never be able to eat that last bite. This does not go over well. Up 40 more minutes.



7. He wants to know why Jesus wears a crown in some pictures and in some pictures he does not. Also, he wants to know why we can't go to Australia tomorrow. I tell him all I can offer is to read Where's Waldo. He accepts.



8. He tells me he has to fart but it won't come out. He asks me how many times a day I fart. I tell him mommies don't fart. He laughs. And says that lying is bad.



9. He can't fall asleep because my hair is in his face. At this time I am standing in the doorway. I ask him how my hair could be in his face if I am nowhere near him. He cries. Takes 30 more minutes to go to sleep.



10. He is upset and cannot fall asleep because he is not sure if he is good at "baskaballs." He is not good at basketball. Not today anyway.



11. He needs one more minute. 17,456 times.



12. He can't fall asleep because Zebras came into his room and spilled all his toys.



13. Dad is better at putting him to bed because boys have willies and they know how to go to bed. Why don't girls have willies?



14. He is worried about sharks in the ocean and how they go to the dentist and brush their teeth. He does accept the idea of an ocean dentist, and seems to begin to question everything I have ever told him. He is on to me.



So my fellow moms, go into your night time routines prepared. Load your arsenal of explanations, your last iotas of patience, and unload the last half hugs you have left in your body. Your children will come at you like spider monkeys with excuses why they can't just shut their GD eyes. You have to come back at them like spider monkey moms, wielding answers and discipline like you have been anticipating these questions since your birth. Don't look weak. They can smell that ya know. Your alone time is so very close, and your Breaking Bad series and chocolate doves are waiting for you.



Carry on warriors.

xoxo Big Mama

Life in the 30s

This past weekend I got to go to Chicago for a girls trip to hang with my sister and celebrate my sweet friend Jenni as she is set to get married in 3 weeks. It was a fabulous girls weekend with brunches, bloody mary bars, wine on patios of Chicago condos, and a little shopping. Pretty much the stuff dreams are made of when you are a stay at home mom, considering my idea of excitement is going to Wal-Mart alone to peruse the clearance section.

The weekend also reminded me that I am NOT 21 anymore. Heck I'm not even 25 anymore. I'm old, I am exhausted, and I need 8 hours of sleep.

Getting old creeps up on you. It all starts with a night post-college, you don't see it coming- you have a casual 2 glasses of wine while watching the Real Housewives marathon and wake up with a twinge of a headache, craving a bagel the size of Manhattan. "What is going on here?" You ponder to yourself. I used to be able to have 2 glasses of wine just while I was applying my blush in college. And that wine was Franzia, and now I'm drinking expensive, classy bottles, like Yellow Tail. Then it hits you. You're just old. You really can't have more than one glass of wine without feeling like you got run over by a semi trailer and wanting to take a mid-morning nap by 9 a.m. Things have changed, lady. You're getting up at 6 a.m. with a toddler who thinks it's fun to attempt to swing from the chandelier all before 6:17 a.m.

Why do children wake up with such boundless energy? I don't feel like talking to any human before 9 a.m., and my 3 year old bounds out of bed with plans on how to change the world.

Me: "Brooks, do you want yogurt or cereal for breakfast?"
Brooks: "Mom I would like the vanilla yogurt with the picture of the baby on it because it reminds me of when Luke was a baby and he was sooo cute and cuddly and that makes me happy and feel fuzzy inside and also can we go to the park and the dollar store and the museum today so I can learn about numbers please thank you so much I love you and I love zebras."
Me: Blank stare as I overpour milk into my coffee.

Because of said children, I actually feel like so many years of sleep deprivation have accumulated on my body that at this point I'm feeling like I won't catch up until I'm in my 50s, at which point I'm sure I'll be having burning hot flashes and not be able to nap. Fabulous.

Last New Year's Eve, my husband and I spent the joyous event partying hard. NOT! We were snuggled cozy in our bed, old people pajamas on, watching a concert on TV. The ensuing comments just proved how old we had gotten.

"I mean how much money is spent on just the background of that stage?"
"I would be so tired if I had to stand up this whole concert is that area standing room only?"
"Did this concert not even start until 9 pm? I would not make it."

That's when we realized we were an old couple. And we didn't even care. Things started to take an interesting turn from there. We began to divy up weekends where we might be able to sleep in until 8 a.m. like we were talking about war strategies. We began to eat frozen pizzas in bed, splitting them down the middle without a care in the world, and stuffing our faces while we watched marathons of Breaking Bad on Netflix. There hasn't been a second in the world during our marriage I haven't wanted to make out with my husband, and these frozen pizza sessions didn't even change that. To my surprise, you can actually cuddle and pig out at the same time. It just takes dedication. We had just accepted that we were in our THIRTIES (that once forbidden, scary word), and the scariest part is, we liked it. Our date nights turned into sneaking in a bowl from Chipolte to the movie theater, so we could pig out more in public. We quickly realized the crunch of the chips was going to out us, so unfortunately, that was a one-time thing.

So here I stand, 31, with a beaten-down metabolism, but an appetite that won't stop. It's an interesting phase in my life because I know for a fact that I will mutter at my 40th birthday party (likely a frozen pizza eating session with a $15 bottle of wine), gosh, I would give anything to be 30. So I guess I should enjoy the moment, and my crazy 3 year old who never stops talking, and my crazier 20 month old who only has 5 words and gets by on grunts and smiles.

Let me just make one thing clear about this aging process - I sure as heck hope they have a solution for me to be able to eat donuts all day and still be skinny by the time I am 40. There's a science lab working on this specific endeavor somewhere, right? I think maybe we need to pull a few people off of the border control crisis and make sure we are covered on donuts that burn calories. Priorities, people.

It's hard to get old but the good thing about coming back from Chicago was I have never been more excited to see my family. I am now realizing that I have my own little crew, and they're waiting on me to get home, squealing with delight when I walk in the door. Maybe this whole aging thing isn't so bad. If I could just get a calorie-free donut and a good nap......

Mother's Day

If you're a male and you read this blog, I'm sorry! There is a lot of information that's probably way too unfiltered! As a "thank you" to you for reading, I'm going to write this post on Mother's Day suggestions for gifts. You're welcome! If you don't already know, you need to send your mom a card and call her. You also need to send your Mother In Law a card, or at least a text. Finally, your wife is a mom too, and if you forget, you will probably spend anywhere from 3-7 days in the dog house. I know she's your wife but she's your kids' mom and she expects a present. and a text. and a card. and a hug. but not a hug that turns into more. unless it's her choice. whew. Ok glad we are good there.

Here are some suggestions for presents. Some are your obvious, buy on the internet, nice gifts, and some are ones that you might not have known about if it weren't for your unfiltered friend, Big Mama Taylor.

1. Monogrammed C. Wonder Tote
I saw a quote once and it said "If it ain't monogrammed you don't own it." Quite frankly if monogramming were free I would monogram EVERYTHING under the sun. There aren't many options to dress boys cute past smocking, which I have learned doesn't last too long after two, so I monogrammed a lot of Brooks' clothes until I got pregnant with the second and realized none of those precious items would get passed down. Sorry, second kid, you are monogrammed a lot less.

I love monogrammed stuff and it's really catching on in the trends and now pretty major retailers have lots of cute regular every day stuff you can monogram, like this cute tote from C. Wonder. It's perfect for running errands and to the gym. It's the perfect size to lose all my stuff and somehow after a week hold everything from a plastic lizard to my car keys to a dirty diaper.

Monogrammed Tote

2. Time with her girlfriends
Consider setting up a girls night out for your beautiful wife. Sure we have them on our own once-in-a-blue-moon, but we feel incredibly guilty, and by the time we have figured out plans for child care, made sure everyone is fed, bathed and happy, gotten dressed in real live clothes, and put on 3 swipes of make up, quite frankly we are so tired we are thinking we might as well take a bath and go to bed. So text her best gals and set it up for her

The thing that happens when we don't get out with our girls is we start to lose our social skills. Answering crazy toddler questions and telling our one year old to stop eating ants does not count as "talking." Our brain literally fries during the day and when we are allowed to get out of the house, especially stress free, this magical thing happens where we get so happy we might even come home and make out with you. This fabulous Latin lady I see every single day at the YMCA leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and I was so flustered I ended up kissing her on the lips. Yes folks, a full on kiss on the lips. This was almost 2 years ago and I am still not recovered. What happened was I moved to Florida and didn't go out for so long that I was flustered altogether by human interaction. We had started to become friendly and say hi to each other and I had noticed that she and all her fabulous latin friends would hug and be affectionate with each other. I don't know if it was the lack of friends or me missing Texas but I wanted in on their huggy circle. So one day she calls me over to the wolf pack of them lifting with each other (turns out she wanted to ask me if I was pregnant, I was 10 weeks and looked about 32 weeks along). When I get over there she leans over to put her weights down, and I thought she was going for the side kiss like she did with all her gal pals. Nope, she wasn't, and I somehow ended up kissing her side mouth. Let's just say I was never invited into that wolf pack. Moral of the story: Plan your wife a girls night so she doesn't accidentally side mouth kiss people at the YMCA.

3. Letter Necklace
The only thing better than monogramming stuff with our own initials is wearing our people's monogram. This is a great gift if you have kids, or you're newly married, in my opinion. If you're newly married getting the letter of her new last name is fun. If you have kids, get their initials and she can combine them on one necklace. Jewels always wins.

Monogrammed Necklace

4. Alone time
Listen, we love you, dear husband, but we don't get the alone time you get. Every time you're on the potty alone, I want you to think of us, and how we can't even say restroom anymore, just potty. It's like it's embroiled on my brain. I could be talking to David Beckham and I would say potty. I can't not say potty. Anywho, think of us, when you're alone, and know that we are never, ever alone, not even on the potty. I cannot even tinkle without Brooks asking me if I have a "really bad rash?" He had a rash one time, like 2 years ago, and for some reason he now thinks I have a really bad rash. Every day. So you know what a good gift is? Coming home, and giving us really cute pajama pants, and shoving us into the bedroom with a bag of dove chocolates, a hot bath, and something horribly trashy to watch on tv. Give us a date with our sanity. Below are some cute pajama pants that I wouldn't mind being gifted, as long as they came with said alone time, chocolates, bath and good recorded shows.

Side Note: If you are reading, and you are rich, well first of all, give me some money. But seriously, if you have the money, in addition to alone time, send your gal pal to a spa. There is literally nothing better than someone doing something so ridiculously spoiled and luxurious as sitting in a robe and getting pampered. I personally need a completely new eyebrow shape and have since 2001 but I just haven't had the chance to conquer this beast. And yes, stuff like that really stresses me out.

Cute Pajamas

5. This Mug. Also go ahead and get wine. Lots of wine. A mom is like a fine automobile and a fine automobile runs on coffee, and wine.

6. Weekend Travel Bag
Again, monogram the crud out of anything you get for your girl. She will probably want to divorce you a lot less when you mess up because she has so much monogrammed cute stuff. Winning! This is a great little weekend travel bag that should never be filled with diapers, wipes and hand sanitizer. It should only be filled with fedoras, swimsuits and boxed wine, the classy stuff that weekend getaways are made of. Link and picture below.

Precious Monogrammed Weekend Tote

In summary, get your mom, mother-in-law, and mom of your kids a gift. Heck, you might want to get any mom you know a gift. Be sure to just walk around that day saying to any woman you see "you are a blessing and so are your ovaries." And remember, this is the reaction you will get for kisses if you do not give this lady something monogrammed or alone for Mother's Day. You heard it here first.

Baby Brain

Since my little boy Luke turned one, I have been thinking about when we would have our next kid. Not necessarily in an I-can't-wait kind of way, more in a will-we-and-when-will-we. I would say I'm sort of a planner, so it's easy to let my mind wander and think about the day we will have 3 and what would work out best for our family. We have had our 2 kids at the end of football season and it actually worked out wonderfully, but I could have very well given birth to either of them during a fourth-quarter scoring drive, alone. Brooks came at 5 in the morning the day after the football season ended, and Luke came the morning Zac left for a 48 hour trip to Buffalo for an away game. I also had them both within about 45 minutes of arriving at the hospital, so I'm lucky my husband was with me for both as well. I want to have the next one at home but I haven't gotten the Mister on board with that one just yet.

So, if we are lucky enough to have another, a springtime baby would be kinda nice. In these dreams, however, I either forget that I actually have to go through the 10 months of grueling pregnancy, or I look like Angelina Jolie pregnant in them. Let's get one thing straight: I never looked like Angelina Jolie, pregnant, not pregnant, sleeping, anytime. The second I am pregnant, my body swells like the Michellin man and I remain that way for the entire time. I get fat face just thinking about being pregnant. I actually feel my ankles swell a little when I'm even in the presence of pregnant people. And as puffy as I'll be, and as crazy as our 2 current kids make me, I am up for more kids. I guess that makes me actually, literally, crazy. And since my husband took me on a fabulous trip to Italy we actually have a binding contract, made with words, over wine, that I shall bear (bare? my brain is being fried by my children) him another child.

I'm just upset that there aren't more options out there for this whole "how to have a third kid" thing. I mean let's be serious, when you go to the grocery, you can pay with your credit card, pay with debit, write a check, use cash, get cash back....but if I want another baby, I'm either going to have to adopt or just grow the thing myself. This just doesn't seem very fair, and I'll tell you why. I don't want to. I would like for this next child to just show up on my doorstep, say next May? Tuesdays are good for me.

I want to state one thing before I go any further and that is that I'm very aware that I have been lucky enough to have the 2 crazy children I do have, and that God made this world and made women to carry the babies. It's a miracle, it's beautiful, and yes of course I cry every time someone posts one of those videos where the lady gives birth in the tub and the baby comes out and there's Enya playing and the dad is crying and gosh, ya it's beautiful. It's bananas that women can just grow a child. Like, one day you are kissing your husband and then BAM, 10 months later you have a human being that could look exactly like you. 

But you know what those precious videos don't usually show? Any of those 10 months, 40 weeks, 280 days of suffering. The ones where you have to pull on your black compression socks from Wal-Mart, and sleep in them, and nothing else, because your body is swelling quite frankly from the toes up, but you sweat through all your clothes at night. So you're reduced to this sweating mass of a person, carrying another person, sleeping with the blanket over just one leg, because you're somehow hot, cold, sweaty and shivering all at the same time. Ya. The little videos never seem to show that part.

Just once I want someone to post a video where they are muttering curse words into the camera on the first day of the 3rd trimester. If it's anyone like me, they have already gained 30 pounds at this point and know that from this point out they are pretty much staring down the barrel of 2 lbs a week weight gain for the next 12 weeks. I will consider making a video like this myself but then I can really guarantee there will not be anymore children. Because after having recorded video footage of myself waddle after my kids at the park and plopping my sausage feet up on pillows at the end of the day, that will be it for me.

Can you tell I'm just dying to get preggo? I guess the moral of this TMI story is that it just doesn't seem fair. Over the weekend, my absolutely adorable hubby and I had this discussion about how it seems like he's always gets a break. Well that obviously isn't entirely true. He gets up around 5, goes to cross fit on the way to work, has to arrive by 7 for meetings, sometimes earlier, and on the days he is able to get home at 5:45, which is only a few months in the spring, he comes in the door in a great mood and helps me until the last second those little people go to bed. I can't really say that I could ask him to do anything he isn't doing, I just think guys don't always realize the little pockets of luckiness they have throughout the day - that nice bathroom break you got to do alone, without someone hanging on your foot, with a snot bubble coming out of their nose. You got to brush your teeth without someone pulling down your pajama shorts. That time you ate lunch, and there wasn't someone throwing rice and beans at you during your lunch, was that nice? Maybe you even got an adult conversation at lunch, and didn't have to discuss with your 3 year old why there is sometimes corn in his poop. And then have another conversation about how it's really not appropriate to conversate about your poop. LORD DELIVER ME.

Guys just seem to have it lucky in that whole, being alone a lot of the day way. And in that whole, THEY DON'T HAVE TO CARRY THE CHILD WAY. Can I just say, to this day I still don't understand why we don't alternate pregnancies. I guess we would have to sit down and figure out an exit plan for the little person, but beyond that, it seems like it should be an every other thing, AMIRIGHT?

I would like my husband to come home from the hospital and spend 20 minutes looking in the mirror at his postpartum body, and then cry in the corner for 1 hour until his boobs are so full of milk he has to nurse the baby. Actually, I don't really want him to do this, thinking of him doing this whole scenario just made me feel really weird, but it would be nice if he could know how this actually feels. Because when I'm 4 months postpartum and still feel like a doughy blow fish, it really doesn't help when he tells me that the weight will still come off. UMMMM It is off you jerk, it has just displaced itself in very different areas on my body and I look like a stretched out version of my former self. The correct answer was "you have never looked so hot! I got nervous because I thought Heidi Klum broke into our house to use our mirror." I'm going to go take a bath and sob now, because you didn't say the Heidi Klum thing, thankssomuch.

I also feel a little guilty that for this kid, there isn't that excitement that there was before. The first pregnancy is of course, over-the-top, beaming, rainbows and butterflies. YES! We can procreate! We did it! You're stuff works, my stuff works, BOOM, we are doing this thing. The second pregnancy was exciting in a different way - we are giving you a sibling! You're going to have so much fun together! This time around I almost just feel irresponsible - are we really equipped for this? Some days I can barely get the 2 I have dressed and fed. There was a day a couple weeks ago that I'm pretty sure all they ate was a ton of cereal and mandarin oranges. There isn't a spare minute in the day so where is this new baby gonna fit? I feel like if my kids were behaving their typical crazy way at the grocery store and I was also pregnant people would just walk by me and shake their heads. If there were thought bubbles over their heads, they would say, "that lady should probably stop procreating and handle those ones."

If I'm forced to think of some positives I guess I do look forward to the day I eat 6 krispy kreme donuts in one sitting and don't really feel any guilt. Sure, there's a chance that 2 lb kid in there is going to have a killer sugar crash in a few hours but I'll be napping when that happens. There will be lots of chocolate eaten in my bed, and in the bath. You really haven't lived until you have eaten half a bag of caramel doves in the bath tub. That will happen, and it will be fun. So there you have it. The good the bad and the ugly about our preparations and my TMI thoughts to have more children. Thank you Jesus for the ones you have given me, and I pray you bless us with one when the time is right. And if you decide that dropping it in a moses basket like a stork next May is best, then I'm all for that plan.

Question for you to ponder:
If you had to lose your taste or your hearing, which would it be?

I will cut you

Today I posted a note on the front door. I used a green sharpie. I regret it, but only a little. The note said:
If you ring the doorbell, I will cut you.

Ya.....I did add a smiley face. 

You see, my son Luke had been woken up twice. The first was when my other little boy, Brooks, and I were racing to his bedroom for his rest, and we were too loud. Luke started to cry and I immediately regretted our fit of giggles because I knew I was so close to that magical, sparkly afternoon "free time." But I got Luke settled down and breathed a sigh of relief as I went to make myself a grilled cheese. Then, the mailman came to the door. He brings up all of our packages and rings our doorbell and talks to me for 10 minutes about the Dolphins until he realizes I know absolutely nothing and then gets bored of me. Well, Mark the mailman knows that my monsters nap, but he forgot and rang the doorbell, and bless his heart was cringing by the time I opened the door because he knew what he had done! He was already muttering "I'm so sorry" and slinking away in a sad sort of moonwalk. I must be really scary in the afternoon. Nonetheless, Luke was awake again and another 20 minutes was shaved off of my beautiful, sparkly, afternoon alone time. So this time, when I emerged after getting Luke down a second time, I wrote a note. I was desperate, I was tired, and my grilled cheese was cold. So I wrote, If you ring the doorbell, I will cut you.

I worked at the church this morning, and during the afternoon on these days, I need my "rest time" more than anything. "Rest time" for us typically means that Luke takes a 3 hour nap (praise Jesus!) and Brooks goes in his room. Brooks doesn't nap a ton anymore but he knows he is supposed to be in his room and by some miracle of God, on most days, he actually does stay in his room for 2-3 hours. A lot of moms will gasp and say "Oh you're so lucky!" when they hear this but I will say, I worked really hard at it. This isn't something that happened overnight, and I believe kids can be trained to nap/rest like this. I also believe that most need it, and if they don't, well I do, so it's happening. When Brooks transitioned to a big bed from a crib there was a rough week in there when he realized he had more freedom, but I cracked the whip and reminded him that Mom goes bonkers if she doesn't get a mental break.

Why does mom need naptime? Well there are lots of reasons. There isn't one certain thing I do during naptime, but there are a few things I rotate between.....

1. Watch trashy television
Well I'm not sure if you could call 19 kids and counting trashy. It's pretty much amazing. The Duggers are wonderful people, and quite frankly, they are intoxicating. I don't know why, because I am not anything like them, but I find them fascinating, and when I lay in bed, and watch their children "court" potential lifelong mates and all they can do is give each other a SIDE HUG, things in the world seem like they might be ok. Then I typically follow that show up with the Real Housewives of whatever city and I'm back on planet earth. I don't know why I love these shows but I do. I also love Sister Wives, Preachers Daughters, and Southern Charm, Lord I need a life.

2. Make believe online shop
I love to put things in my online shopping bag and pretend that I am Kim Kardashian and I'm going to order them all. My favorite websites are 
Lululemon - workout gear that costs one million dollars. I want to hate it but I can't and continue to buy leggings that must be made out of gold.
Anthropologie - I want to look like that cool, music festival, laid back hot mama but I think when I try it comes off as mostly homeless disheveled. 
Forever21- Once I turned 30, it really became more embarrassing than ever to actually walk into the store, so I began to shop online at this store even more. The hard thing is sizing, if I actually do order something. Most of the time I need a double extra-large from this store and half the time the dresses are so short that I need to layer my one-million dollar workout leggings under them.

3. Take a nap myself
I haven't done this as much lately, especially now that Brooks doesn't nap, but sometimes, it just feels so decadent to pass out myself in the bright sunshine afternoon and get all drool-crusted. Whenever my husband and I nap together on the weekends I always want to explain that I don't do this everyday! Because seriously, I don't!

4. Lay in bed and stare at the ceiling
The last thing I like to do is actually what I probably do the most. Yesterday from 345-430 Brooks asked me, probably 1,345 times, what happens to ducks when they die. I MEAN SERIOUSLY. I tried everything - I answered the question logically (they go to heaven, you will see some ducks in heaven). I answered it with a question (Where do you think they go?). I answered it over. and over. and over. And then I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall. Being a mom in this stage is just hard. Their little brains are working so much to decipher all the new stuff that's thrown at them and it's so much responsibility to be responsible for these little developing brains, sometimes it just feels so right to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Sometimes I daydream, sometimes I don't. Mostly I think about nothing, which I have learned since being married that men do A LOT. When Zac and I were first married, I would ask him allll the time, "What are you thinking?" I quickly learned, the answer is NOTHING allll the time. It used to make me really mad, and then I realized that men may be on to something (with this one thing).

So the moral of this story is that, I need at least one hour in the afternoon to not have to ponder where ducks go when they die, and I'm sorry if you ever come to my door and there is a curt note.

I decided to go with the tagline where I will ask a question to my readers that I have been legitamately pondering....today's question is:
If you had a choice to live the rest of your life on Mars (but you got to bring your family) or you had to be bald and gain 75 pounds you couldn't lose, which would you choose? DISCUSSSSSS

Being a woman is hard work

One thing that might make it hard for me to blog a lot is when nothing really interesting happens to me so I just want to say that I'm very sorry, reader, if I ever get boring!

Following the fun Wednesday adventures of having our toilet removed from the wall, I guess God decided to give me a break and give me a fabulous Thursday and Friday. Thursday we just worked at the church in the morning and then I got to go to the outlets with my mom and my sister all afternoon! It was fabulous, is there anything better than girl time!? It's days like these I want a girl so bad. My mom and sister and I sat at the Cheesecake Factory giggling about girly things for a few hours and roamed in and out of stores and I wasn't looking at my watch because my babysitter was free, my husband! My mom bought me this adorable dress and I think I might wear it to Easter service tomorrow. I have to volunteer in the 1 year old room first though, and it is a lot of sitting down and getting up and down, so I tend to wear pants, but I'm anxious to wear this cute dress! It's still online at the jcrew factory site and on sale for $53! It runs big if you are going to splurge :)

Thankfully my husband is a saint and took the boys to Lion Country Safari on Friday, his day off. This place is pretty cool, and about 1 hour away from our house. You get to drive through a safari-like setting first and see all the animals, and then your ticket buys you entry into a fairly nice theme park with rides and a petting zoo. I have been a couple times with the boys and at the risk of sounding like a total Debbie Downer I would probably rather be sedated at the dentist. It's wonderful to see Brooks so happy but it's usually about 105 degrees in the shade and smells like animal poop everywhere.

Something about hot theme parks always seem to bring out the grumpy in me. Everyone around me suddenly seems way more trashy than me and I feel like I'm by far the classiest person in a 100-mile radius. Then, I realize I also stink and have huge pit stains and last time, I was still nursing so with the enormous leakage of breast milk all over my shirt, I realize I fit right in. And then I want to cry. It's usually about then that I see Brooks pet a goat and immediately lick his hand. They are good for about 2 hours and I feel proud of myself for taking them and then they have the most epic meltdowns as soon as we hit the car and I want to pass out. Why are kids always so naughty right after you have done something wonderful for them? I always end up repeatedly saying in my "you're in trouble" voice, "Fine then we won't go anywhere fun anymore because clearly you don't appreciate it!" Then I curse myself for the hour drive home that I should never take them anywhere because they are just as happy getting slurpees at 7-11. My husband's brain just doesn't seem to work like that so I guess I'll let him continue the solo safari trips....

He actually convinced another offense line assistant coach to accompany him, I am wondering if he bought him a case of Bud Light or just slightly drugged him and threw him in the car. I have to wonder what people thought about that crew about 2 large men and 2 small children walking around the Safari. Ben you're a saint for going along!

While the boys were away, this momma go to play. I get my hair done about every 4-5 months but I think I'm finally going to have to give in and start going every 8-10 weeks. My hair is getting darker and when the roots come in I get depressed because I can then see light hairs within my dark hairs and they are not highlights - they are grays. Yes I have plucked about 5 grays and subsequently cried myself to sleep. 

Between that and the deepening line between my eyebrows I just want to curl into a ball and pretend I'm 28 again. If you are anywhere from 21-29 enjoy this time!! These are the best years of your life as far as your body and it's just going SWIFTLY downhill from here. Heck, if you're alone, go look at yourself naked in the mirror. Yes, now. Remember this day. It's a good day. You know when your car works great for like 4 years in a row and you start to even maybe feel a little over-confident about how you never have to go get it fixed? This is what it's like to turn 29. At first it's just replacing a tire or two, then all of a sudden the mechanic is talking to you about replacing parts you didn't even know existed and all of a sudden your car is so broken down and your savings  is gone. That is what is happening to my 30-something body. If I even look at a donut my bottom grows. I hadn't had a donut in months and the other day in the grocery store, something came over me that was literally uncontrollable and I ate 3 krispy kremes walking around the store. There's something very ironic about buying organic lettuce while shoving donuts in your face. During this donut show down, a middle aged man approached me and said, "boy you have a healthy appetite, I have been watching you." OH DEAR GOD is anyone listening or around me! Then he just awkwardly lingered while I wiped icing on my workout pants. I still don't know if that was a pick up line or what. Either way, I had to eat nothing but cucumbers and stone ground mustard for a week to work off that donut binge because I'm 30 and times are rough. Just kidding, I wish I had that discipline but I don't.

Anywho, There is almost no cuter look then when you're at the salon about to get your hair done. I have usually let mine get so bad and the roots so grown out that everyone looks at me sympathetically when I walk in like I'm a charity case who won the highlights at the school festival. Here are a few pictures of myself in the chair before and during.

And after! Selfie in the car like the crazy mom that I am, because I knew within 10 minutes of being home someone was going to slime smushed banana in my hair. Isn't that crazy. I wasn't going to put these up because quite frankly it's embarrassing, but it also feels sort of liberating. Sort of like I'm one of those brave soldier moms who posts pictures of their 3-days postpartum belly to prove you really do still look pregnant afterwards.

Right after I took that creepy selfie of myself in the car and immediately whiplashed my neck looking around making sure nobody saw me being that lame, I saw this lady outside of the salon across the street. I couldn't help myself, I had to take a picture.

When I have the head full of foils I want to melt into the ground and keep looking in the mirror thinking, wow I would look really terrible bald. I would never leave the salon and walk out into real life where people can see me! It was sort of gloomy yesterday and all I could think about was what if it started to lightening!? Girlfriend would be set into a blaze of fire. Also, she is lighting up a cigarette. omgeeee I can't decide if I want to be this lady's friend because she's so ridiculous or if I want to save her actual friend next to her.

After my haircut I went and took my little nugget Brooks for a haircut.  He kept asking if I was getting my haircut too and I told him a couple times I had just gotten mine cut. Then he finally said, yea momma you did because it looks so smooth not crazy like a lion. Awesome.

Also, I just want all my readers to know I went ahead and ordered that leopard romper. I was feeling sassy and since it's from Forever21 it was $22.80. Here is a link in case you also feel like you might want to look like Nicole Richie in the 90s......
http://www.forever21.com/Product/Product.aspx?Br=F21&Category=Jumpsuit_Romper&ProductID=2000126382&VariantID=

I have no idea why I wanted that thing so bad but I did. I love the romper trend and think it is so cute. Sometimes I think they might make me look a little silly yet I continue to get them.

We are heading out tonight to a Miami Marlins vs. Seattle Mariners baseball game. I am excited! One of my best friends, Camden, who I met while attending grad school at Nebraska, now works at the Mariners and always completely spoils my boys with neat Mariners stuff. Brooks has a really cool mini baseball bat, tons of Mariners clothes, and she just mailed them hats for this game. We decided to drop Luke off at my moms because he is by far the more difficult one at stuff like this, and Brooks will actually probably sit and watch it. Even last football season he was very interested in the games and if it weren't for crazy Luke I could have easily watched every game with him in the stands and he would watch the whole thing (and only ask me for fruit snacks about 21 times).

Finally, I'm working on a good tag line that I can end my blogs with. I always drone on I think, because I'm not sure how to wrap the darn thing up. So I'm going to try on a few for size here today.....see which one fits?

Talk to you soon, dear readers!
Good night, Miami (this one is dumb because we actually live in Weston on the Everglades. Good night swamps?)
Would it be fun to sound off with an important life question to keep readers thinking - i.e. Has Britney Spears completely recovered or will we see another breakdown from her?
Flabby and Fabulous, Sarah
Which one do you like?