Sunday, August 30, 2015

Just Add Water

There is a water obsession going on at the Taylor house. It is as much a part of our family as the dog or the cat. It started with Layla’s strange fear of running water. Every bath night was a struggle. If she was anywhere near the bathroom when I turned tub faucet it would end in hysterics and no bath. “TURN THE WATER OFF!!!” She would shriek.  It didn’t help that her bedroom was across from the bathroom so I would have to be extra sneaky in my tactics. I would wait until she was engrossed in something like drawing or talking to her Care Bears to start my plan. Turn on the TV for added noise. When she wasn’t looking I would sneak into the bathroom and shut the door. I slowly put on the faucet so that she wouldn’t hear. I wait a few minutes until there was an adequate amount of water for her to clean herself. Before having Layla, I assumed the best way to get clean was to use the running faucet water and not the sitting bath water that was most likely filled with body dirt. But then again, I am not a fan of taking a bath at all. I am sure Layla spent the first five or so years of her life not getting totally clean..but at least she would let me wash her. Once the tub was filled and the water was off, I would go into her room and announce it was bath time. She would happily get in the tub like the water fear was never a thing.   Sportscaster: In the 5th round of Mom vs. Toddler, Mom goes for the sneak bath. Mom takes this one.

Layla was a very hesitant swimmer. She didn’t want her face anywhere near the water as if she had been drowned in a past life. It took her two sessions of swim lessons before she would go under. Water activities like sprinklers or water balloons were not fun for her. There was a slip ‘n slide incident ended with the F-Bomb heard around the world. My brother in law took her for a slide into the little pool and her face hit the water. She stood up in a fury I have never seen on her before. “Teddy”. She yelled. “You make me so fucking mad!”     Sportscaster: In the 50th round of Mom vs. Toddler – Toddler uses mom’s favorite word in front of family, friends and grandparents. Toddler wins this one by a landslide.

Liv immediately took to the pool. Her first impression of a pool was to immediately jump right in, not even stopping to think about it. No matter how many times I had to fish her out of water that was too deep, she never had a fear for swimming. I got reprimanded by the sixteen year-old life guard at the pool one summer. “Ma’am,” he said looking at eighteen month Olivia and over to three year old Layla who was sitting in the shallowest part of the water playing cautiously to her self. Liv was trying to squirm her way into the deep end. “you need to keep your kids with in arms length of you. Both of them.” He added. “Gotcha.” I said with a slight sprinkle of sarcasm. I knew Layla’s fear of the water would keep her in that spot all day if I let her  and Livs lack of fear would have her throwing a tantrum to go off the diving board if I let her. I hope he ended up with a Liv one day and had to keep track of her at the crowded pool. Another time, We were at a friends house who had a back yard pool and a slide. I was chatting away with the other moms while the kids all hovered around the shallow end. They were all kindergarteners/first graders so they had a limited skillset with swimming that didn’t include the deep end yet but they had a fear of it that kept parents confident they would stay in the shallow end. “Wow, your daughter can go in the deep ends?” one of the mothers asked. I realized she was talking to me when I saw Olivia fly down the slide into the deep end. I mom-ninjaed over to the side of the pool just in time to fish her out of the deep end as she realized she couldn’t swim.  Sportscaster: In the 75th round of Mom vs. Toddler, Toddler shows of bad momming to strangers and other moms. This is a win for Toddlers everywhere folks.

Liv’s water issues were a direct result from Layla’s fear of running water. She didn’t like running or sprinkling water. She was also a runner, so this began my water based parenting tactics. In her early toddlerhood, She would often run down the driveway and almost into the street before I would catch her. Of course the act of chasing a toddler only makes them want to do it even more. So with a determination, anytime I wasn’t looking she took off. Our driveway was an L Shape and our deck was right at the corner. One day I was spraying the deck with the hose when she started her descent into the street. I didn’t mean to but, I turned to yell at her with the hose still on and she got sprayed. She screamed and turned and ran the other way,  toward the back yard. Spraying my kid may make me seem like a terrible mom, but it was for her own safety. And it only took a few times.  They would play outside and I would sit at the corner of the deck with the hose. If she started to run, I would spray. If she kept running she got wet, if she turned and went into the back yard she stayed dry. Sportscaster: In the 101st round of mom versus toddler, mom busts out a secret weapon – the hose! This round goes to Mom!

Jackson is both fascinated and annoyed by water. After I had Cece, Jackson realized acting out was a good way to get us to put the baby down and chase him. So basically, Jackson punished us for having a baby by extra toddlering. He would climb on the end table and start to lean forward like he was going to fall unless I ran over to catch him. He would climb on the couch and try to pull the picture off the wall. If I set Cece down in her chair or swing, he would immediately climb on top of her and try to “hug” her. There was just. so. much. climbing - all the time. I had to come up with some way to get his attention since yelling “No, No”, swatting on the butt and pulling him away only made him want to do it even more. This game was getting old for me since I wasn’t winning at all. I remembered the hose technique with Olivia. Should I? No. That is mean. I am sitting in my recliner nursing Cece. He comes over and pulls the recline button sending me back and putting the foot rest out so he can climb on it via stepping on one of his trucks. I am still feeding Cece with her cradled on my right arm while awkwardly trying to get him off the chair with my left hand. He head butts my shoulder then hugs me, burrowing his face into my shoulder blade. I feel something sharp. “Owe!! Did you bit me?” I scream. He laughs and repeats the head butt into biting motion again. He looks at Cece, then me, and plops down next to her. He grabs one of her hands and gives her a little high five. “Awe, high five.” I say. Then he clenches his fist and punches her in the arm. She hesitates; then lets out a terrified scream. He looks at me and says “Uh-Oh”. “You’re a jerk!!” I scream. He smiles and gives me one more head butt bite hug. Yes, I should. I filled a water spray bottle and when he made the facetious climbing look - I sprayed it at him. The water hit his back and he looked at me with shock and betrayal. I am such a bad mom. I kept thinking. He stacked pillows only to try to reach a glass vase off the high shelf. Spray, spray. “No!” I said. He stopped what he was doing and moved on to playing with his trucks. That was too easy. Now, I don’t really need to spray him anymore. When he starts one of his ass hole behaviors, I grab the blue bottle and point it his way. He cowers for a second then finds something else to play with. Perhaps parenting is just missing a bit of water. Sportscaster: In the 1000th round of Mom vs. Toddler boy, mom deploys the spray bottle decoy. This is all Mom!

I am sitting outside with Jackson. It’s a quiet Sunday morning after a rainy night. It was going to be a steamy day but not for a few more hours. Jackson is running around the yard and I am drinking my coffee and jotting some ideas down in my journal. I want to keep up my weekly writing cadence so i promised myself I would have a post up by Sunday night each week and I even procrastinate on my own deadlines. Jackson waddles up the steps and finds one of his trucks filled with water from the rainstorm. He starts drinking the water. “Ewe. Gross. Ca-ca”. I say. He throws it and finds his bucket also filled with water. He drinks this too and looks at me, knowing I would react the same way. “No!” I yell and grab the bucket, dumping it on the deck. He belly flops onto the deck and starts lapping the water off the deck like a dog while smiling at me. Then he finds a flowerpot base with dirt and rainwater and laps that as well. “Seriously? I just cant. I cant,” I say to him,or the air. He is back to lapping up water off the deck. Perhaps toddlering is also missing a bit of water. Sportscaster: In the 5000th round of Mom vs. Toddler, Toddler realizes Mom can’t make all the water go away after it rains. If he dog can lap it off the deck, so can I. As usual, Toddler wins this one!






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Monday, August 24, 2015

The Do Over

I am sitting in the middle seat of the Taylor bus sitting next to the infant carrier. I never understood why people did that, was that a helicopter parent thing? I have always viewed the front seat as the power seat; the grownup seat. It was something I didn’t want to compromise on as a parent. No matter where we go, I sit up front. Caption of the Taylor ship. Lately Cece has forced me to sit in the back since she is not a “car baby” like the other three were. I am not used to a kid that isn’t magically put to sleep by the car moving in reverse down the driveway.

I am so fortunate to have the unique parenting perspective that comes from having two kids (22 months apart), taking ten years off, then having two more (18 months apart). The way to do this: drink a lot in college. Get pregnant right before graduation. Have baby, buy house, have another baby so they will be close in age. For those keeping score: Baby 1 – unplanned. Baby 2 – planned. Try to figure out life with small kids for a while.  Wake up one day and wonder who the hell replaced those stinky babies with smelly pre teens. Send them on spring break with their grandma since every year a family vacation just seems slightly out of budget. Act like kid free parents for a week and drink a lot. Surprise! Baby. Insert tears of joy because (finally) it’s a boy! (from Daddy). Start over at baby. Buy house. Skip period, take ten home pregnancy tests, have doctor confirm with ultra sound. Wait, I can see the arms and legs on that baby. How far am I? Twelve Weeks?!? More tears of joy because it’s not a boy! (Mommy and Daddy). Final Score: Planned 1; Unplanned 3.  

In less than two years we went from a family of four to a family of six. Strangers often remind that I have my hands full. I just smile. I don’t really look at my situation as having four kids rather than I have two sets of kids. The first two are pretty self-sufficient.. but are quickly becoming teenage girls. Bring on the constant eye roll and deep sigh. The second two are completely dependent on me so the first set has to help. I am lucky to have the Adult Jr. squad around to help with things like “can you get your brother off the kitchen table?” Getting to do the first ten years over is a learning curve, but it has taught me so much about how I look at myself as a parent. A view from this seat is too amazing not to share.  These are some of the things I have learned in the first few years of my parenting do over.

I don’t live in Neverland. By that I mean I try not to be that parent that starts sentences with “I will never”. Yes I will. I will never sit in the seat with my kids while driving. I will never have another baby (after 2, then after 3). I will never let my kids sleep with me. I will never be able to breastfeed. I will never be able to wear my baby.  I will never sleep again. I will never let my kids get a cell phone. I will never let my kids see me cry. Kids are not a one size fits all adventure..they are all different and require an open mind. They won't sleep with me forever, they will eventually learn to use the toilet, they won’t be scarred forever if they cry it out, they will grow out of that phase and if not I will learn to accept it as their unique wiring.

It’s ok to fail and be vulnerable. I put these together since I always have. Mistakes and failure reek of vulnerability. I had Cece in her infant carrier, Jackson in a stroller and Liv helping me take them to lunch with a group of co-workers. Since there was food involved, Liv was only about 60% present. In between situating Jackson (aka pulling up the Lego game on my phone), she asked when the food would be out about five times. I used the high chair to put Cece’s carrier on the stand. I turned to situate myself and her carrier flipped off the stand. I quickly grabbed it but not quick enough to avoid the barrage of concerned stares. “Sadly this isn’t the first time..” I joked. I no longer care if the concern is judgment. With four kids, parenting fails are going to happen more often then I would like so I am embracing it.  So far Child Services has not knocked on my door…

It’s ok not to be cool. Whatever that means. As soon as I had kids, I began my quest not to look, act, dress, and be the typical mom. I don’t want my kids to be the thing that defines me. I want to still be the first to know about the latest music or movies or trends. I am typing on a laptop. Seriously, who types on a laptop anymore? Unfortunately, adults are not cool to teenagers. Even Justin Timberlake. Me: Did you guys know that Justin Timberlake is about the same age as me? Layla: oh, I didn’t realize he was that old.  To be honest, being “cool” is exhausting. “Mom that is so 2011” Liv said the other day. Wasn’t that last year? Nope. I am clearly not cool. I will talk about my kids to who ever will listen, I will over share their precious faces on all social media, I will introduce myself as a mother of four, I will admit I haven’t heard of that band or seen that new movie or read that book. I will embrace this mid thirties; I don’t give a shit version of myself. Hell, maybe one day I may even get a mini van.

I am an over documenter.  I write and take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. “Layla, when you were born digital cameras weren’t common.” I said. “And they definitely not on our phones”. Whoa. Teenage minds blown. “ha-ha dumb phones” Liv said. I have had a Snapfish account since Liv was born. Once I got a digital camera, my obsession with taking pictures exploded. Now, when I miss that baby phase, all the pictures are in one spot. I am even worse with round 2, but I know that this moment will pass like the flash on my camera. I also started writing again. A lot. I jot down random thoughts whenever I can. My journal is my best friend. It laughs at my witty jokes, cries when I do and always is there to listen. It doesn’t have to be Pulitzer winning essays, just a release of those hormone laced thoughts that go through my (lack of) mom brain.

Now, when I see these back seat parents, I will give them a nod of understanding and approval. Like how people who have Jeeps beep at each other because they live with the shared knowledge that owning a Jeep is awesome. As a back seat mom,  I was able to write, apply a full face of make up, take a decent selfie, pluck my eyebrows for the first time in three years, ignore social media, embrace new music, and (almost) feel cool. 








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Saturday, August 15, 2015

Because, Toddler

Q: Why haven’t I written here in over two years?

“No No!” I say for the millionth time today. Jackson is climbing on the chair next to me. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong yet, but he has the look on his face that alerts me that he is scheming. He starts to paw at things on the table while I scan all the objects to quickly determine what will be bad enough for me to quit nursing Cece and grab from him. Keys. Anthropologie catalogue. Nah. I may never be at the goal weight that allows me to spend $100 on a T shirt that looks like it is from a thrift store. Pen, potentially dangerous depending on if he can figure out how to click the tip. Remote. Hmmm…how invested am I in this episode of “Jeopardy”? He grabs the keys and starts hitting the unlock button causing the car alarm to go off. Great. Now I have to pull Cece back and grab Jackson. Cece immediately begins to cry and Jackson sees me coming for the keys and starts running off with them hitting the unlock button as he goes. For her own safety, I set the crying infant down and chase the toddler. I finally catch him and take the keys. He screams. And she is screaming. and the dog is barking because of the honking car. Sorry neighbors. He is a toddler.


Sometimes I try follow him around and pick up the toys he has randomly discarded around the living room. I read a book titled “organizing with kids” or something unrealistic like that. One of the chapters was all about having a designated playroom and not keeping toys in the living room. Clearly that person did not live in a small house. The living room in our house is the TV area, office, entry way, occasional dinner area, homework haven, toddler entertainment area and infant changing station. I believe all rooms should multi task. That is getting the bang for your square footage buck. Just invest in nice storage…that way your junk is stored in pretty boxes and baskets. Most of the time I am following Jackson around with one of these pretty baskets collecting the scattered toys like they were currency. I sit to pick up the toys from a basket he dumped over (then immediately moved on). One thing I learned with a baby boy is never to make eye contact when you are sitting on the floor. That is always an excuse to pounce. Before I know it he has body slammed me and was grabbing my neck as if he had the strength to knock me on the ground. I give in hoping that there is some sort of magical correlation between increased wrestling time and earlier bed times. He then sits directly on my neck and digs his little toes into my shoulders. This is not the best time to figure out it is time for a toenail clipping. His knees are now against my cheeks and his face is directly above me. I notice some drool beginning to form at his lip. As if in slow motion, it starts to get bigger and fall toward my face. Of course I scream which makes him laugh. He tightens his knees around my face causing my lips to purse out in some sort of upside down duck face. This makes him laugh harder and makes my mouth a bigger landing area for droll. I now have droll on my face and probably in my mouth. There is a diaper way to close to my head that is most likely dirty. My toddlers knees have become a nut cracker and my head is the nut.

Why am I so tired?
Why can’t I manage to complete a full thought?
Why has it taken me over a year to write a full story?
Who is president?
What day is it? Actually, what year is it?
Is he standing on the table?
Why am I fat?
Which celebrity couple is now getting divorced?
Are baby doll dresses and Doc Martins back in style?
Am I dreaming?
Will the food I made get eaten or thrown off the high chair?
When did my boob become a stepping stool?
Is he eating lotion? Again?
Who put my phone in the trash and my wallet in the tub?
Why is there a toy truck in my purse ?
Did I actually think I could take him to a movie?
Why don’t I pay attention when people give me simple directions (sign on the top line…)?
How many times did I go to the kitchen and forget why?
Why is Mickey Mouse always on?
Why are the dog and cat hiding?

I want to answer this by saying because he is a toddler, but actual full sentences rarely come out of my mouth these days. So if you see me looking extra mangled and worn down it is not because I had a baby a few months ago. Its. Because. Toddler




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Thursday, February 14, 2013

True Love

Love is a sweet tender kiss on a rainy afternoon keeping warm with a crackling fire and inevitable intimacy. Love is popping the zit on your life mate’s back because he just cant quite get the leverage to do it himself. Love is dancing together in total sync as if the melody is carrying your bodies as one and nothing or no one else exists anywhere around you. Love is getting gas in your wife’s car even when you know she may be exaggerating when she says the gas light “just came on”. Love is fighting for your relationship trying everyday to be a bit understanding and patient. Love is not an adolescent notion, or something just old people do. Love is well….I don’t even know. If you really want the answer, ask a romantic. I am about as romantic as a fat guy with a beer gut scratching his balls watching football on his anniversary. Romance is such a mystery to me. Why are we so turned on by candy and flowers? I imagine waiting too long for an overpriced dinner and a glass of pretentious wine wearing sparkly new diamond earrings while finally jumping on the table to yell “he went to JARED”. Ok. Maybe I am a cynic. To me love is finding an amazing pair of shoes on clearance. And not everyday boat shoes, or flat boots…no…love is finding this dazzling red heels that make your legs look like a fashion model and your outfit look like you stepped right off the set of Sex in the City. Now that is love. Anniversaries and Valentines Day are for celebrating the one person you have chosen to spend every day with, for all eternity. I can’t imagine wearing the same pair of shoes for the rest of my life. Shoe are not monogamous relationships. They don’t care if you cheat. Shoes don’t come up to you the next morning and ask where you were sticking your feet last night while they sat there waiting by the back door. Shoes really don’t expect much for you as far as commitment. One can have hundreds of pairs of shoes and love each one as if it was your first. Maybe that is what Madonna meant when she sang “like a Virgin.” It is just an ode to shoes; every pair makes you feel so shiny and new. It isn’t far fetched, after all, we are living in a material world. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely adore my husband. He has given me two amazing children and ten blissful years of marriage. We still hold hands and we still say, “I love you” every time get off the phone with each other. It is just reassuring after spending over ten years with the same person that I can freely change my shoes whenever I want. To celebrate, I bought my self four pairs of shoes. Happy Hearts Day to all…may you find eternal love with the shoes to match.



Happy ❤❤ to me





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I dedicate this post to my Mom. She set an example of the gives and takes of a great marriage. She also bought me a pair of boots for Christmas that were too small. After almost two months of sitting in my car, they were finally exchanged. Unfortunately they didn't have my size in the boots, but they were having a sale. So i replaced them with four pairs of great pumps in the best neutrals, black, red and leopard print.




Tuesday, September 4, 2012

The Routine

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“I’m so hungry. Can I have a snack?” Olivia asks
“Dinner is almost ready…like five minutes.” Josh says
“But I am really hungry.”
“FIVE minutes!!”
“Ok.”


We sit down for dinner. There is chatter between the kids of who did what at school, who played with them and some gossip over who got in trouble. As this is a new school, I smile and nod, as I have no clue what they are talking about.


“I'm full.” Olivia says


“Five more bites.” I reply without even looking at the plate. I know there is probably somewhere between “the starving kids in Africa” lecture and the “no snacks later” but as I am between diets right now, it was more like the “finishing Olivia’s meal doesn’t really count as seconds” mindset.


“I took five bites, can I be done now?” She asks.




Since the girls have started school, life has started to feel a bit normal…like the natural balance of day and night has returned and now I don’t feel like I am the only one who actually has to wake up at a specific time everyday. Just like my work life, their daily life involves actual people and not Warrior Cats and American Girls. Schedules and routines feel more normal than the long and hot summer days where I am the only one who knows the difference between a Tuesday and a Saturday. Summer is the routine killer. I spend the entire school year trying to the girls on a perfect balance of schoolwork, homework, activities, friends and playtime. It is a fine craft that took a few years to perfect. (Don’t be overwhelmed parents of kindergarteners…I promise it gets easier..or you start caring a little less about what other parents, your parents, teachers, the kids, your husband or even the dog think of you. It is about mid-first to second grade you will realize the impact of school on your child’s life. Before kindergarten, the kids go with you and their lives are pretty much based on what you are doing. After kindergarten, you go with the kids and your life is pretty much based on what they are doing.) Since the theme of our summer was “we moved and our lives are now completely different”, I am now bracing what feels like a familiar routine and that involves them being in school.


After seven days off work, I actually didn’t mind going back to work. For the first time since I have been at my new job, I started to think about what I was going to wear tomorrow. This is a far cry from my new motto of “whatever is clean”. I was starting to wonder if the old “me” was dying a little each day. With a job where I have to do actual work everyday (aka grownup world) and city where I am anonymous as Jane Doe, I was starting to feel a little bit too ordinary. As I lay there in bed dreaming Kelly green mixed with leopard print, my old self decided to make a comeback. Like Doctor Who emerging from a pocket watch, the former me is taking over. (Confession time: I have spent the last three weeks in a total Doctor Who trance…why didn’t someone warn me that show was so addicting? I have skipped the following activities to watch the Doctor: sleeping, shopping, eating, exercising, going out, calling people back, reading emails, blogging, cleaning, etc. etc….)


Now that fall is close and I can picture myself in my heeled boots and pretty much anything from J. Crew, I am starting to feel a sense of individuality again in what I am wearing. To honor that, today I wore a scarf. Welcome back fall wardrobe…(swimsuit, my nemesis, we will meet again next year), hello new Kelly green slacks.


“How long has it been since we had dinner?” Olivia asks
“Ten minutes” I say
“Can I have a snack?” Olivia asks


Welcome back normal family life.




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Shirt: Target
Scarf: The Limited
Pants: Gap
Shoes: Charlotte Russe