Comparative

I know this is a long post but please read if you have a minute as your thoughts on the matter are coveted.

I had a post all prepared about Kendall's 18 month check up that was to have happened this morning, complete with jokes about how she's 19 months and you know, she's the second child so just be glad that I realized she needed a check up before shes' 3 and blah blah. HOWEVER the doctor had a different plan in mind. The plan involved me waiting in the waiting room for over an hour and asking the receptionist when we were up and she told me there were still two people in front of me and because of some emergency, Dr. was running way behind. I rescheduled appt. and now she will be 20 months when we go. I love our kids pediatrician, I really do. And I get that waiting is part of the deal. But can someone in the medical field please explain to me why a doctor would continue to take on new patients, when, clearly, they are over worked!

Enough about that.

I've been thinking a lot about something lately (well, I've been thinking about a lot of things like The Loser Jon Gosselin, and why in the world Jessica Simpson would want to have a Barbie birthday party but that's not what this post is about). I've been thinking about how much we (and by "we" I mean "I" because I really struggle with this) compare our children. We compare them to other children their age. We compare them to their siblings. I don't know what it is that compels parents to do this. Perhaps it's our own insecurities we project onto our babies. Maybe we just want to make sure our kids are growing and developing like they should.

But it's hard.

I remember when Kendall was two months old, I compared her to a picture of Cason at the same age. In the picture, Cason had a huge grin on his face. Kendall rarely smiled. I told the pediatrician that I just didn't get why Kendall wouldn't smile at us like Cason did. Well, she had horrible reflux and I guess that if you had a belly full of spicy milk that at any second was likely to come shooting out your nose, making it feel like you were drowning, you might not smile either. Kendall has since become very smiley and laughs a lot but she does have a serious side.

It's also hard when there are parents who brag about their kids. A LOT. Now, should we be proud of our kids and what they do and accomplish? YES. Of course! But, for some people, it's just another rung on the "mommy ladder." And if you are neurotic, like me, you hear things like that and think, "Well, my kid is nowhere close to that! Is there something wrong with them? is there something wrong with me?!"

Recently, someone that has a child Kendall's age, was saying that, apparently, their daughter speaks only in paragraphs and makes up songs about other children and is fully potty trained, and is also reading Dante's Inferno. In Spanish. Well, guess what, that ain't Kendall. (SIDENOTE: I'm not sure she wouldn't use the potty, I just don't really care at this point. TANGENT ALERT: I think "potty" is the stupidest word in the human language. It makes otherwise intelligent adults sound idiotic. I've been trying to get Cason to say "bathroom" instead. The other day, at church, he told an elderly lady he had to go poop in the bathroom. Not quite what I was going for. TANGENT OVER.)

And I've had a parent with a child Cason's age go on and on about their child's mathematical ability (apparently their child woke up one morning able to multiply square roots!) to which I just said, "Oh, Cason still eats dirt." That pretty much shut down that conversation.

I guess what my point is (YES! I have one!) is that last night, I had a light bulb moment of sorts. By comparing my kids to others, I'm really shortchanging their OWN abilities and strengths. Cason may not be the best artist out there. He still scribbles and doesn't color things realistic colors. But you know what? He's a REALLY good athlete for a three year old. And he can hear a song one or two times and know almost all the words. Kendall doesn't say a whole lot for her age yet, but she is VERY observant. And she can climb anywhere and on anything. And she is really, really funny for a one and half year old.

Every kid has his or her own abilities and strengths. What are your thoughts on this? Am I the only one here who struggles in this area? Is is part of parenthood? Hello, anyone? ANYONE? BUELLER?

A Rare Saturday Post

Hey, guess what?

I haven't washed my hair in, like, over two days.

Oh, what? You thought I was going to say something cool after, "Hey, guess what?" Like, "Hey, guess what? I had my tubes tied!" or "Hey, guess what? Michael Jackson isn't really dead!" Which wouldn't be so much cool as creepy.

Back to my hair.

Don't worry, I've showered. But I just have not had a reason to mess with the coif. I'm playing bunco tonight so I plan to wash my hair before then. Actually, Colin took one look at me earlier today and said, "You ARE planning on doing something to yourself before you go out tonight, right?" Hands off, girls. He's mine.

But it gets worse. I went to the store today in the same thing I slept in last night. Granted, it was yoga capris and a t-shirt. Still, I have a feeling my mom is reading this somewhere in south Texas in full make up and beauty queen hair saying, "Oh my gawsh. I taught her better than that!" Seriously, the women in my family do hair and make up to sit by the pool.

The funny thing was, that when I went to the store I was embarrassed that I wasn't wearing eye makeup so I shopped with my sunglasses on. Apparently pajamas and hair so oily you could season a skillet with it is ok but lack of mascara causes concern.

If you're nice, I may even shower again before church tomorrow.

In other random news, today a melted a cutco knife.

I also continued to be barraged by examples of why I should be a life coach. This has nothing to do with anything I've said today, I know. But would you trust a life coach who had dirty hair?

They DO Clean Up Nicely

Before:


After:


Before:


After:


"Don't tell Mom and Dad I just sat in dirt."
"I won't if you don't tell them I just pooped in my diaper."

If Gary England and Mother Nature had a baby

Tonight I had several errands to run with the kids. We're leaving in the a.m. to make the trek to Texas (Cheri, will we actually be there at the same time or will we be passing each other via I35?). Before we left I wanted to get the kids some July 4th outfits (because...duh...they need them). I also had to go get a few necessities. On the way to our pre-shopping meal of Qdoba (kids eat free on Tuesday!), I noticed the sky looked...dark. But, heck, we haven't had rain in, like, 13 years (not counting the minor Sunday morning shower) so why worry, right?

Of course, I made the stupid decision to go get their outfits first. When we were finishing that up, it started pouring. I mean POURING. Like in Noah-like, biblical proportions. And we still HAD to go to Target. When you need diapers, you need diapers, people!

Ok, I'll be honest here. It wasn't the diapers that made me go to Target. True, we were low. But not out. I needed makeup. Bad. And to me makeup is as important (if not more) as diapers. So there you have it. Are you happy Mother Nature? ARE YOU?!

I grabbed the kids and held both of them and RAN into Target. By the time we got in, we were soaked. We were quite the talk of Target. Us and the people who bought the largest swimming pool and then asked 4 workers to carry it out to their car (What the heck?). My hair looked like I had just got out of the shower. I could have wrung my clothes out. The kids were equally as soaked. Kendall's hair was dripping wet as was her bow. Cason looked like he had been thrown into a swimming pool. And he had one thought to share on the subject:

"Mom, my shoes are wet."

And yes, I got my makeup.
And diapers.
And Oreos.

7 Years

Today marks seven great years of marriage for Colin and myself. I thought we could take a little walk down memory lane and I could show all of you some of my favorite pictures of us.
Here is one of our engagement pictures. Wow, I was having a great bangs day.


Here we are at one of my Theta banquets. I loved those white gloves.


This picture is one of my favorite from our wedding day. Colin's stash was particularly awesome that day. As was my hat.


Here is our latest family picture. Just us and our two kids.


Colin, I love you very much. I'm not sure I could have ever found anyone else to put up with me.

To give credit where credit is due, all photos courtesy of Sexy People.

PS No, that is not us in these pictures.

She might look like her dad...

...But she eats like her mom. mmmm...ice cream sandwich good.

Next, we'll be discussing Watergate

Me: Cason, hurry and get in the car.

Cason: Mom, it's hot out here.

Me: I know. That's why I said hurry.

Cason: Is it your fault that it's hot?

Me: No.

Cason: Is it my fault that it's hot?

Me: No.

Cason: Whose fault is it?

Me: I guess that depends on whether or not you ask Al Gore.

Cason: Who is Al Gore?

Me: Our former Vice President.

Cason: Is it his fault?

Me: Lots of things are Al Gore's fault.

That Special Brand of Crazy

And now you can get in real time.

Thanks for the title inspiration, David.

I'm twittering now. You know, in case you can't get enough of me. Seriously, in case the blog and facebook just aren't enough. And I added a twitter bar! On the side of my blog! GET PUMPED!! Also, I think I am going to have to delete my husband from my twitter followers so I don't have to listen to him make rude comments about my twits. HA! I said twits. Although I do think I need a twitter tutorial (a "twitorial" if you will (see, Jess, I told you I would use that joke again)).

If you tweet, or twit, or twitter, or whatever, please leave a comment with your name so I can follow you. And please follow me, too! I need followers. I need validation. You can find me @theheartoflifeinok.

If you don't twitter, follow my tweets on the sidebar. Also, if you don't twitter...YOU SHOULD. All the cool kids are doing it.

My Neurosis

Swimming Lessons Edition.

Cason starts swimming lessons tonight. Oh, my gosh, he is going freak. He's not going to do it. He won't get in the water. Should I bring my bathing suit in case I have to get in with him? No, that's stupid. But what if they ask me to get in and then I don't have my bathing suit? No, they won't ask me to get in. Should I call? No, that's stupid. But what if Cason won't get in unless I get in with him and then I don't have my bathing suit? Should I wear my bathing suit or bring it in a bag? And if I do wear my bathing suit, I'm going to have to do in front of the little swim teacher who probably looks like Jessica Biel. I'm going to call and cancel. Because he won't get in anyway. He hates the water after "the incident." Great, I'm going to have one of "those" kids whose afraid of the water. Buddy, that is NOT going to work in this family. We swim in this family! Oh no, now he's going to feel like I rejected him if he won't get in the water. And then he's going to have an attachment disorder. That's it, I'm canceling. No. I'm not going to do that. Because then, he'll never want to get in the water again. And he has to learn not to be afraid. I'm so glad I have someone to watch Kendall tonight. But what about the rest of the two weeks? I'm going to have one screaming to get in the water and one screaming to get out of the water. If Colin had a normal job, he could keep or go with one kid. No, I'm not going to get myself going with Colin's job. I have enough to think about today. What if they ask me not to bring my kids back to the pool? What if the teacher hates Cason? Will they refund my money if he doesn't ever want to back? Great. Whose idea was it to get him in freakin swim lessons anyway? Oh, mine. Right.

It's exhausting living in my brain.

Swimming lessons start tonight! Guess I'm a glutton for punishment....

It Can Only Go Up From Here

This morning I woke up to a kid that had peed in his bed last night (who had helped himself to cheetos for breakfast), a kid that had diarrhea running out of her diaper and all over her crib and no pop tarts in the house. Any moment I expect a major appliance to quit working.