paradigm shift

Not to brag, but there was a time in life when people thought I was fearless, adventurous, free-spirited. Maybe it was taking a semester off to live with strangers in South America, or flying off to Ethiopia for three weeks with a friend, or renting an apartment off Broadway right behind Dick's (just kidding). I loved the shock value in the decisions I made - I loved traveling by myself and discovering new parts of the world. Okay, I still love that, it's just not so much of an option at the moment.


So when did I suddenly turn into a 'fraidy cat? How can it be that someone who was willing to go just about anywhere, any time, be so fearful of loading three boys into a car and running errands all alone? Maybe it isn't fear so much as laziness. The thought of corralling them, the logistics... ugh, I'd rather stay in my sweats and read Curious George all day.


But today that ol' adventurous spirit came back. I decided I would take the boys to Target. Alone. I talked Lute through it before we left the house. I strategized each child's location and mapped out my route. Okay, not really, but it did take a lot more thought than just hopping in the car and strolling through the aisles by myself, or even with just one kid along.


With Eddie in the cart, George in the Ergo, and Lute by my side, I stuck to my list and filled my cart to capacity. Lute was actually a pretty handy little assistant - bending down with George strapped to me ain't so easy. Once all items had been procured, we made our way to the front. I was pretty much patting myself on the back at this point, impressed at the ease with which we accomplished our mission. All of my boys were absolutely lovely, apart from Eddie's tired moans, which I silenced by popping Puffs into his mouth for 45 minutes.


I started to unload the cart.  Before I was even a third of the way through, the woman behind me loaded up the conveyor belt with all of her items. "Really?" I thought to myself, "Does she not see me, my three babies, and a cart full of stuff that is kind of hard to reach due to the child attached to my body?" No matter, I carried on with a smile. Then the cashier asked for ID for the wine I was buying. I very sweetly asked her if she wouldn't mind waiting until I was ready to pay. She rolled her eyes at the inconvenience.


As I opened my purse to grab my wallet, panic struck. "Oh no." I said quietly. "Oh no oh no oh no oh no." My palms got clammy, my face started to flush and I could feel pools of sweat forming. No wallet. NO WALLET.


"I don't have my wallet."
"Well, is it in your car?" the cashier asked.
"I have no idea," I said. The lady behind me huffed loudly.
"Okay, well, I'll set your cart aside while you go check... Do you know that your kid is eating paper?"
I looked at Eddie who was happily gnawing on my list. I snatched it away as the checker gave a knowing look to Ms. Impatience behind me and said, "Yeah, I didn't think he should have paper with ink on it."
"I'll just go check my car," I said, glaring. I swiftly picked Lute up and put him in the cart and bee- lined it for the Highlander.


God is good. There was the stupid wallet between the seats. Hallelujah.


When I got back in line to pay, the cashier had suddenly become cheery and helpful, even calling for someone to load my car for me.


"Do you run a daycare?" she asked curiously. That's a new one.
"Nope, all mine," I said with a smile. After a look of serious concern ("They are awfully close in age, aren't they?"), the usual questions, and my memorized answer...


"Man, you have your hands full."

things i never thought i would say.

If you're a parent, you can relate. You find words coming from within that you never imagined yourself saying. Maybe it's just parents of boys - does anyone with a daughter want to weigh in here? Do people still have girls? I wouldn't know.


On a daily basis I find myself creating restrictions for my children that I figured go without saying. How could I have been so naive?

"No, no, we don't eat the rug."

"Lute, please stop sucking on your brother's fingers."

"Please don't pick up your toilet."

"Please don't put your feet in your mouth."


"Please don't put his feet in your mouth."

"You canNOT run around with poopie on your bootie!"

There is just no excuse for that last one. 

gonna burst

I am sorry, but seriously? Face, I want to squeeze you.

Today has been one of those days that make me overwhelmed with gratitude for all the goodness in our lives. It started with George being baptized at mass. In case you haven't heard, we aren't totally organized. George is 5 months old and we fully intended on having him baptized much sooner. But time got away from us (shocking?), then it was Lent (no baptisms), and so today was the day. And as God would have it, St. George's feast day is April 23... which I found out today. Are you kidding me? Perfect. And George was a dream during all of it. No tears. no squealing, just zoned into the whole event (or so it seemed). The same cannot be said for his brothers, especially Lute, who spent a  majority of the time deciding between straddling the baptismal font and sitting and scowling on the steps of the altar. All in all, though, it was a beautiful morning, full of family and good friends.

Moment of gratitude #2. Home alone with the three boys this evening. Lute and I are sitting at the table while he took his sweet time eating his turkey avocado sandwich. George in the bouncer, squealing with delight at nothing in particular. Eddie on the floor, searching for crumbs. Lute notices that Eddie has discovered George and is slowly climbing up to greet him.

"Can I go see the babies?" he asks.

"Sure," says me, as I watch him climb down and do a tummy slide across the kitchen floor.

"Hey, brothers!!" he yells with a huge grin.

Eddie could not have been happier to see Lute and George took the whole thing in with total enthusiasm. 

It was the first time I had seen all three boys fully aware of each other in the same moment. And it was a beautiful glimpse of our future.

And finally: Eddie had been put to bed, George had reached his limit in the bouncer and I had just put him in the Bjorn while I made dinner for Nick and me. Nick was upstairs getting Lute ready for bed. I could hear them talking through the familiar process of jammies, teeth brushing, and prayers when I hear Lute profess his undying love to Nick.

"Dada, I just really love you."

"I love you, too, Lutie."

"I will love you forever, Dada."

My heart absolutely melted. 

When we finally sat down to eat (alone!!!), we reflected on the beauty of the day, the fullness of our lives, and the excitement we feel at the thought of three rowdy little ragamuffins around the table in all their silliness. Life is good.

five years and some change

Today marks five years of wedded (mostly) bliss. I can honestly say that they have been better than I could have ever imagined, which isn't too surprising. I got me a good one.


It's fun to think back to those first moments, days, weeks together. Our first encounter at the Christmas tree lighting downtown with Rachel and Jimmy, and Red Robin afterward. Then meeting again the following summer at their wedding - he was a reader and I was a bridesmaid and we were both supposed to be set up with other people. Then he moved back to Seattle and we would carpool from Capitol Hill to Queen Anne together to visit Rachel and Jimmy (have we thanked you guys?).


One of our first conversations during those car rides still makes me laugh. He was admiring his parents, talking about their marriage and how they had remained best friends for over 30 years (I think it was his dad's birthday which was the catalyst for such reflection). That got us to talking about his extended family and how ginormous it was (40-something aunts and uncles and 90+ cousins)...


"So how many kids do you want to have?" I asked.
"I don't know. Like ten?" was his response.
"Wow," I said, taken aback, "I feel sorry for your wife!"


Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Little did I know.


Not too long after that we went on a real date; not long after that he told me over dinner at Taco Time that he thought I was The One; not too long after that we broke up (for 48 dramatic hours), and just a few months later we were engaged. A wedding at St. James, a reception at the DAR, a short flight to the San Juans, a new apartment on Queen Anne, and a honeymoon in Costa Rica. And that's just the first month.


Here we are two apartments, one dog, several road trips, a few plane rides, two houses, an overseas adventure, three babies, and a whole lot in between later. In five years. I am kind of excited to see what's next.


Love you, Nick. Happy anniversary!