The most important weekend of the year.

Mother’s Day started on Friday night for us and I made sure to tell Rory that it’s only the most important weekend of the year.  We all met at Red Robin for burgers–  how on Earth did I go my whole life without eating Red Robin burgers?  The banzai burger is 720 calories of hormone/antibiotic/preservative-free beef with a slice of grilled pineapple, teriyaki sauce with a pile of sustainably-farmed vegetables.  Their tiny little french fries are the best I’ve ever had and I don’t even remotely like french fries.

We don’t take our kids out in public very often so meeting up for burgers is always a big adventure in parenting.  Emily wants to pull out napkins from the dispenser one by one, Rory is excited about catchup and mustard in tiny cups, they want to race up and down the long booths and don’t care about the other families sitting there, one or both have to go pee, Rory yells something about Andy and I drinking “grown up juice” (beer) to the whole restaurant.  They have to fight over and share and trade everything.  It’s not the least bit relaxing.

On Saturday Andy took Rory to soccer and when they came home I asked that all of us mosey over to Starbucks so that I could get a cup of tea.  This turned into melted chocolate-covered graham crackers all over faces and swimming in a fountain that is not at all for swimming.  I’m pretty sure that at some point on this day I took a long-deserved nap and then we went to look at model homes in our neighborhood, dreaming of the day we build.  Rory and Emily ran all over a $3,000 sectional sofa in a million dollar model home screaming, “Choo-choo!  Choo-choo!”  I’ve learned to turn a blind eye but just realized that probably other people aren’t.

On Sunday we woke up and headed to breakfast at Udi’s where Rory euphorically screamed, “Daddy!  They have catchup in here!” as we walked in.  The kids shared a glass of fresh-squeezed OJ and short-stack of pancakes which Rory covered in butter and syrup before insisting that he doesn’t like syrup (completely untrue) and Emily allowed me to trade their plates and she gobbled up the syrup sponges.

I took Rory to drum lessons and put Emily down for a four-hour nap when I got home.  She finally woke in the late afternoon and we headed out to the park with two frisbees and a kickball.  Rory wanted to go back to the fountain which was now swarming with kids (the pools don’t open here for a few more weeks) and we obliged, which resulted in me driving back home to get a swimsuit and towel for him.  These children aged 2 to 12 are climbing seven feet of stacked stone with water pouring out of the top and yet somehow not one has ever fallen and cracked their head open.  I could hardly watch; I was a nervous wreck.  The water was frigid and luckily Emily wouldn’t go near it so I only had to worry about the impending death of one of my kids.

Finally we coerced Rory into putting on a shirt and headed to the park to play.  My crazy child walks right up to a group of 5 year old girls that he has never met, smiles, and says, “Hey, do you want to play that game where you chase me?”  And he takes off running and all of the girls give chase.  How does he get kids to do these things?

His soccer skills blow my mind.  He is such a natural dribbler.  His Saturday soccer class is kind of a joke but the class he’s taking in preschool once a week is teaching him some serious technique.  Other people in the park even comment on “that little soccer player” as he races by, totally in control of the ball.  I know I’m biased but I’m pretty sure I have the coolest kid in the whole world.

When the sun was setting we walked over to our favorite pizza place and entertained the kids with grated Parmesan cheese shaken out onto a soda cup lid until the pizza came out.  The floor, the table, their clothes, and their faces were coated in Parmesan cheese.  Emily’s nose holes were plugged with Parmesan cheese.  We all sat in a row in a long booth, exhausted, with Andy and I passing a bottle of house red back and forth between us trying to encourage them to slow down with their eating.  The poor kids were starving; they’d only dined at restaurants four times in the past 48 hours.

We survived.  We are officially the kind of parents who take their kids out in public, for better or worse.  It was the best Mother’s Day ever.

 

Never too young for drum lessons.

Toddler CSI

Rory’s teacher has started sending daily updates of what the children have done all day. Today she mentioned that during their sidewalk chalk art time out on the patio that “Two children started tracing each other’s bodies and then all of the children joined in.” I was not at all surprised to see the photo evidence that it was my child who decided to act like a dead body on the patio and have his buddy trace him.  He and the neighbors used to do this in Texas all the time.

Here he is directing his innocent classmates, “OK kids, half of you lie down and be the dead bodies and the other half of you be the coroner.”  I hope the other parents have a sense of humor.

Superwoman (aka “Just a mom”)

Andy and I met for lunch yesterday to celebrate passing our ethics exam and being one step closer to practicing law in Colorado.  We were astounded that we even passed the test; our minds are boggled that we did so well.  Andy was especially proud that I was able to “kill it” (his words, not mine) given that I’d had one of the worst nights of my life the night before.

My anxiety was making it nearly impossible to sleep and if I remember right, Rory–  who has been in our bed for weeks now–  kept coughing in his sleep.  In my face.  So anytime I even remotely approached falling asleep he’d be sure to cough inches from my ears and startle the hell out of me.  Eventually I got up to sleep on the couch, which was strangely hot and uncomfortable, causing me to go sit at the kitchen desk and start watching study videos online again.

I finally slept from about 4 to 5 a.m., at which point I went back to studying.  On the way to the exam we didn’t even find a Starbucks.  Once we arrived we discovered, along with hundreds of other people, that the exam agency had printed the wrong address on our tickets and the test was really a couple of miles up the road, but we weren’t sure where and we were late.

Now, had all of this happened four years ago I would have fallen on the floor crying and either given up during the test or not shown up at all.  My entire first year of law school was ruined with chronic insomnia that limited me to only getting 2 or 3 hours of sleep a night until I went on Xanax.  I had a boyfriend who cheated on me and I let it wreck my final exams.  No drama was too small for me to nearly call it quits.

What I am most proud of about last month’s exam is that I did not give up on one single question while taking it.  I pounded through, focusing on every call of the question, and on every answer choice– sometimes to the point that the first answer I scratched off, 100% certain it was incorrect, ended up being reevaluated and selected as the final answer.  I never said, “Screw this, I’m just picking C and moving on.”

Yesterday over lunch Andy said, “It’s insane that you could have had the sort of night you had, and shown up and performed like you did on that test.”

And that got me thinking:  You know what the difference is now?  I’m a mom.  Nothing in this world toughens you up like being a mom.  You can’t fall down on the floor crying, disintegrating into pieces until you can’t breathe when things don’t go your way as a mom.  Your babies don’t care what kind of night you had–  they still need you all the same when the sun comes up.

Nursing an infant every-other-hour through the night and then still having to show up at court the next day trained me to stop having pity parties for myself.  Life goes on.  You’re exhausted.  So what?  Maybe you can take a nap later, maybe not.  Maybe you will just lay down on your office floor when no one is looking.

Did a tiny person spit up their last feeding on your silk blouse as you were walking out the door?  This hazing is just getting started, mama.  Someone dropped your cell phone into the toilet and tried to flush it?  Thank you sir, may I have another?  A queasy stomach vomited goat milk and strawberry popsicles all over your brand new mattress?  Next time maybe you won’t cheap out on buying the mattress cover.  Your toddler threw a full squeezy pouch of prunes at the back of your head while you’re driving 65 mph on the highway?  Hold on lady, he’s not even warmed up yet.  You’ve had concert tickets for your favorite band for three months and on the night of the show your 12 month old has a fever of 102.4?  When your own parents told you that life wasn’t fair, this is what they’re talking about.

I’ve slowly gotten stronger since becoming a mom but this past January was a huge leap for me.  Rory was sick.  Andy was unemployed.  I was supporting my family–  barely– on my own.  Andy left for Denver three days after I came down with the 9-day flu.  Then Rory caught it, then Emily.  I was bleeding money on childcare.  I had to hire an assistant to help me get caught up at work.  Andy got a job and we put our house on the market within 3 days.  I performed or supervised all of the repairs, the staging, the last-minute make readies before a showing.  I wrapped up loose ends with my court obligations while continuing to take on new clients since we needed the money.  I assembled a team of local counsel to represent me when I was gone.   I packed the house and hired people to pack the truck.  I stayed the night in a hotel alone with my kids which was truly one of the worst, most sleepless nights of my life since Emily acted like a wild animal out of her cage for the first time.  Then, with my mother, we flew to Denver the next day.

Was I ever on the brink of breaking down?  No, I was not.  I was on a Superwoman high.  Someone had to keep it all together.  Granted, with my mom, the nanny, the daycare, the assistant, the local counsel, and the hired labor, I was not working alone.  But still, I was the executive manager of our entire life and I was doing just fine.  I was doing better than fine.  I’m a mom.  I was killing it.

So much trust.

Our first Denver thunder storm is rolling in off the mountains.  It was warm and breezy this evening and the kids took turns running as fast as they could behind Emily’s push/ride Radio Flyer.  They’d whiz by, giggling, while Andy and I stood in the grass, arms wrapped around each other, beaming with pride for our little creations.  I hope they stay like this, forever friends.

Still Winning

Andy and I took the MPRE (lawyer ethics exam) a month ago so we can apply for Colorado State Bar reciprocity.  I got about 2 hours of sleep that night after staying up and watching MPRE videos online.  I felt anxious, sick, and exhausted.  The test was horrible.  When I read the first question I turned around and looked at Andy and motioned for us to get out of there.  90 minutes later we met outside and both felt like we’d been punched in the gut.   The study videos had been useless.  10 years of law practice were useless.  I knew I failed it.  We needed a scaled score of 85 to pass.

Scores came out today.  Andy got a 99 and I got a @#! 105.

We can’t help but wonder

Sometimes Andy and I talk about whether we’ll be able to look back on our kids in 20 years and say, “You two.  You were always exactly who you are right now since the days you were born.”

Rory would be something of a perfectionist with high expectations of other people’s behavior.  Physically cautious, socially outgoing.  A sweet little hand-holder.  Trusting of his daddy till the end.  Roughhouser.  Emotional, artistic, musical.  Intellectual.  Quick to compare or contrast, whichever suits him in a particular moment.  He has negotiated offers since he could speak.  Doesn’t give smiles away for no reason.  Generous with his sister.  Capable of delaying gratification– whether it’s peeling off stickers or drinking a milkshake– until all of his predetermined circumstances are just right.  Fixates on details; endless attention span.  Animal lover, tower builder, cheese eater.  Puzzle master.

Emily Mae is the easy going one.  Has leaned back and cuddled since it was physically possible.  Laughs at everything.  Sees the stars and moon in her brother’s eyes.  Dainty; doesn’t want anyone throwing her into the air.  Easily redirected when something isn’t going to go her way.  Doesn’t hold grudges.  Motherly instinct.  Fantastic appetite for healthy food–  will just have a little bit of what you’re having, thank you very much.  Tremendous sense of fairness– don’t even think of leaving her out.  Independent is an understatement.  Don’t try to help her, don’t tell her what to do, and God help you if you reach out to hold her hand.  She will smack you right in your face.