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Lisa Rae Writes turned 3 today!

[lisaraewrites]

A Busy Mom’s Tips for Getting Healthy and Loving Yourself Again

June 30, 2017

I should begin by telling you what I am not. I am not a registered dietician. I am not a doctor or nurse, nor do I pretend to be.  I am by no means, an expert on weight loss. In fact, I am only about halfway to my goal weight and fitness level. However, I have felt like I could stand to lose weight for about as long as I can remember. Was it easier to keep it off when I was younger? Sure. But I’ve never been super thin. I’ve never really been in shape and I don’t consider myself to be athletic. I despise running and in general, exercise is usually the last thing I would chose to do.

What I am is a mom and a wife. I have a full-time job (other than being a mom and wife; which is a full-time job in itself). I am over-scheduled and over-stressed and feel like I never get enough sleep. I am all of those things. And I’m guessing you probably are too.

Let me back up. I should tell you that the idea for this blog did not begin today, but one year ago. My husband and I were on a dream vacation to St. John, without our kids, enjoying the beautiful weather, endless blue ocean, and amazing snorkeling. Because the island is very hilly, we rented a small SUV to navigate the island. One night, Michael suggested we walk to dinner, which was as short, but steep walk up and down a couple hills. At the time, it felt like the worst idea ever. Walking in that heat up and down those hills? I’ll never make it, I thought. And if I do make it, if I do survive, I’ll be a dripping, sweaty mess for dinner. Yuck.

We did it anyway. It was easily the most humiliating activity I’d done since running the mile in middle school PE class. I had to stop several times because my legs were burning and I was out of breath.  I just felt like crying. Though it was never Michael’s intention, it was easily my worst moment of the trip.

When we got back from vacation a few days later, something inside me changed. That was it. I had had enough. I was tired of being overweight, out-of-shape, and tired all the time. I was tired of feeling disgusted in my own body and feeling like I couldn’t fit in any of my clothes. It was embarrassing that I couldn’t even go for a walk on vacation because the hill was too steep. I felt disgusted with myself. How did I get here? I asked myself several times a day.

I’ve had some time since then to think about that question; How did I get there? I got there because I got pregnant and gave birth to three gorgeous boys, each time not really losing all the baby weight. I got there because I truly hated exercising and never did it, though I knew I should. I got there because I told myself I was always too busy for the gym and that I actually wasn’t as out of shape as I thought. I got there because I love eating yummy, delicious, not-so-healthy food.

Gaining weight affected all parts of my life. For starters, my confidence level dropped dramatically. I never thought I looked good in anything, unless it was loose and baggy clothing. I never wanted to try anything new because I automatically felt that I wouldn’t be good at it. For example, my sisters and dad would go golfing for Father’s Day every year. I never went because I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hit the golf ball, nor did I have an appropriate outfit that fit me. I refused to exercise because I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep up in the class. I thought everyone would look at me and wonder why I was so out of shape.

The drop in confidence affected my work too. Ever hear the saying “dress for success?” What I wore affected how I felt about myself and my ability to teach. I dressed for teaching every day in frumpy work clothes. Though I was still a good teacher, I never felt motivated to go above and beyond. I felt like the students noticed every flaw about my body. I even had students ask me if I was pregnant…multiple times.  After having kids, my stomach was the first to bulge out if I put on weight.

My lack of confidence affected my marriage. My husband would get excited about a dress or shirt he bought for me and I didn’t even want to try it on. It was if I somehow knew it wouldn’t look good on me or it would be too tight. He bought me a FitBit for Mother’s Day, which I first felt a bit offended by (but now a year later, I see that present as a total life saver).

Anyway, that hike in St. John was the moment; the eye-opener that I needed. The week we got back, I strapped my FitBit on my wrist and made the decision to lose weight and to get healthy. Here’s what the past twelve months have taught me and some tips I still use that work for me.

Tip #1: Put Exercise On Your Calendar

I have a very Type-A personality. I am always busy. Though I complain about it sometimes, I think I actually like to keep busy. Therefore, I always thought that if I kept busy playing with the boys or making dinner or cleaning the house, I’d lose weight, because after all, I was still moving. Surely, I thought, the only moms who gain weight are the ones who sit around all day. I was wrong. I managed to gain 20 pounds after having my third son, even though I was still busy every day.

However, that first week after vacation (June 26th - July 2nd, 2016), I actually wrote the name of each exercise class and the time it was offered on each day of the week on my calendar. You see, I already had a membership to our local YMCA, I just didn’t utilize it. In fact, Michael had asked about canceling it because we never went. That week I went to five exercise classes (and I know this because it’s all stored on my FitBit app). I started taking Zumba classes because I had lost weight doing so a couple years earlier and I love to dance. I burned an average of 400 calories each time I went to the gym, and I was proud of that. Now don’t get me wrong, I was a complete sweaty mess the whole time. I was out of breath most of the class and I couldn’t do all the dance moves because my body just wouldn’t keep up. It was hard. But it was something.

I found that when I wrote the class and the time on my weekly calendar, it felt like I had to go. I kind of live by my calendar. It’s the only way I can stay organized with the boys’ varying school schedules, my work, my husband’s work, and our various sports and activities. Therefore, when people would call to see if we were free Tuesday night to get together, I had to say no because Zumba was at 7:30.

A year later, I still do this every week. On Sunday night, I look at the YMCA class schedule for the week (it helps to have the paper schedule right next to the calendar and I also keep the schedule open on my phone too). I write in what classes I will attend and I make sure nothing else is scheduled during that time. If the boys have an activity for school or a basketball practice, I make sure I chose a class that fits around it.

I won’t lie. At first, it was hard to make myself go some nights. It still is hard some days. After teaching all day, sometimes the last thing I want to do is race home, make a quick dinner, feed the boys, clean up, and head to the gym. But I still do it five to six nights a week. I do it rain or shine or snow. And after the first three or four weeks, it got easier to find the motivation to get to the gym.  And by now, the guilt sets in if I don’t go.

Tip #2: Change into Workout Clothes Right When You Wake Up/Get Home from Work

This seems like a small thing to do, but for me, it really makes a huge difference. If I sit around in the clothes I wore to teach that day, I feel unmotivated to change and get to the gym. However, if I come home from work and head right upstairs and change, I feel like I’m already dressed for the gym, so why not go? (I actually just had to take a break from sitting and typing and walk/jog around the house to get some steps in. True story. I may be slightly addicted to getting my steps for the day on my FitBit.)

On the same token, if it is a weekend morning, before even going downstairs to make breakfast for the kids, I put on my sports bra, workout shirt, and yoga pants. That way, there is no excuse to not be ready to go to my exercise class.

Tip #3: Choose to Exercise OR Eat Healthier (Only One at a Time)

Unless you have way better self-control than I do, I recommend choosing exercise OR healthy eating. If you know me, you know I love to eat. I love foods that are especially unhealthy, not because they are unhealthy, but all my favorite things happen to be loaded with calories and fats. For example, I love cakes and cookies. I love Mexican food and Italian food. I love love love bread. I love all those foods the doctors tell you to give up. And I knew in my heart of hearts that if I had to exercise (which I hated) and give up the foods I loved, I’d never stick with it.

So, I chose to tackle my hatred of exercise first. I did so by going to the dance classes first. I took Zumba and Werq and ReFit. After I started to learn the routines, I actually started to like going to these classes. They were fun and they got my butt moving. Plus, my FitBit showed me that I always burned an average of 400 calories and I liked seeing that. I swear my FitBit is the one thing I wear every day, all day. When I have to take it off to charge it, I try not to move because I don’t want to miss counting my steps (an exaggeration, but I actually don’t like to do much without it).  During this time I didn’t make much of a change to the way I ate.

Around month two of exercising four-five days a week, I started to feel like I could start eating healthier and still maintain my level of exercise. My husband and I actually did two weeks of eating no to low-carb. It was really hard and I lost three pounds. I’m not sure I would want to do it again, but I am able to keep up with small changes to my diet. For example, I try to eat healthier options as much as I can. No, I never eat as many vegetables as I should and yes, sometimes I still eat bread or a bit of cake. I just eat way less of it. I choose grilled chicken over hamburgers and order salad if I go out to eat. But if I want cake, I eat cake. I just eat a bite or two, not a whole piece (or two). I’ll have a couple spoonfuls of ice cream, not a whole bowl. After a few months of eating like this, I’m actually to the point that I don’t want more than a couple bites. If I eat a whole piece of cake, my stomach feels kind of crummy afterwards. The amount of sugar doesn’t agree with my body anymore. I still eat Mexican food and Italian, I just eat one or two enchiladas, instead of three or four. I try to avoid carbs, but I still eat them. One day, I think I will bump up my healthy diet again and try low-carb or make a goal or eat a lot more veggies every day, but I’m not there yet. I push myself, but not too far that I break. I have to make decisions that are attainable and doable for me.

Tip #4: Get A FitBit

When my husband bought me my FitBit Blaze for Mother’s Day, I didn’t automatically like it. I actually had asked for one, but getting one made me feel like, crap, now I have to actually exercise.  But from day one, I was hooked. Every day I felt like I needed to get more steps. At least that’s how it started. Later, when I actually starting taking exercise classes, I loved to see how many active minutes I had earned or how much time I had spent at the cardio/fat burn/above levels (I still check my app after exercising every day). It actually feels fun to burn calories.

My Type A personality makes me competitive, though I don’t usually like to compete against other people. I choose to compete against myself. When I first started working out, I always wanted to get all “green” on my FitBit app (when you hit your goals for calories, steps, exercise, etc. they turn green on the app). When I lay down for the night, I check my app. If I am short a few steps or a few flights of stairs, I actually get out of bed and walk around or go up and down the stairs until I hit my goal. I consider myself my biggest competitor and I always want to do better than the day before.

Tip #5: Join a Gym with Childcare

This one is a given for busy moms. I get it. It feels like there is simply no time to exercise what with Jimmy’s basketball practice, Tommy’s swim lessons, cleaning the house, making dinner, doing laundry, etc. etc. etc. There was no way I could join a gym that didn’t have childcare because my husband is only home in the evenings, and that’s not counting the nights when he has to work late and isn’t home until after the kids have gone to bed and all the exercise classes are over.

We are very lucky that our YMCA has a great childcare center where my boys actually enjoy going. The boys ask to come with me and since becoming regulars, they know the teachers and have friends who are in there at the same time they are. Plus, this allows me an hour of child-free time, which is good for my sanity too.

I’ll admit, however, that sometimes I feel a lot of guilt when I’ve just come home from work and I feel as though I should be spending lots of time with my kids and yet I’m rushing off to exercise. But, I try to tell myself that I’m getting healthy so I can play more with them and so I can be around longer when they get older. I think being healthy and having confidence makes me a better mom. If you are good at motivating yourself, I think doing work out videos at home would be a great compromise because I’ve heard of other moms that exercise at home and their kids even join in. Unfortunately, I need the class to motivate me so working out at home isn’t an option right now.

Tip #6: When You Feel Ready, Push Yourself to Try New Classes

Even though my husband tried to tell me early on that I should push myself and try the more difficult classes (ie. weight lifting or heavy cardio interval classes), I hesitated. I really didn’t think I’d be able to keep up in those classes, as I wasn’t in good enough shape yet. So I stuck with my dance cardio classes because I was good at them and I liked them. However, around month three, I started to feel like my Zumba classes weren’t pushing me enough. I still enjoyed the class, I just felt like I should probably make the most out of my hour of exercise. I finally felt ready to try something new because I was feeling in better shape and my confidence was rising enough to push myself out of my comfort zone.

Turns out, I started to really like those new classes. I started taking a strength training, weight-lifting class a couple times a week and it’s been great to see how much stronger I am getting. My arms, which once were flabby and gross (to me, at least), are starting to show some muscle definition. Yes, I had to get over the fact that weight-lifting type classes show less calories burned on my FitBit, but sometimes I don’t think it’s all that accurate. Large muscles burn more calories, but you aren’t hopping around and dancing in those classes, so it registers less calories burned on your watch. I’m okay with it now because I know the strength training is good for my body. I have a good friend who is in far better shape than I am and she pushes me sometimes to come with her to cardio interval classes. These get my heart rate up and keep it there. And trust me, those classes still push me and I’m exhausted. And yet, I don’t give up like I might have done a few months ago. After twelve months of exercising 5-7 days a week, I’m finally to the point where my heart rate may be up and I may be dripping sweat and my muscles may be burning, but I can still breathe. I can still catch my breath, which I never used to be able to do when I worked out. It’s an amazing feeling.

A few months back, I also decided to start running – an exercise I don’t believe I’ve ever liked or ever been good at.  But after about 8 months of consistent exercising, I felt like I needed to set a new goal – running a 5K.  I ran my first 5K in early June 2017 in the Cosley Farm Run in Wheaton, IL. Although I wasn’t the speediest one there – by far – I completed the race in 37 minutes and almost cried as I approached the finish line.  Not because I was in pain, but because I did it.  And now I’m signed up for two more 5K races. I still don’t love running, and honestly, I’m more of a slow jogger – but it feels good to be finally able to do it.

Tip #7: If You Have Trouble Motivating Yourself, Take Classes at the Gym

Though my gym has a large area for ellipticals, treadmills, and free weights, I spend very little time there (unless it’s raining and I want to run). You see, I find it very difficult to push myself and I get very bored just going on one machine or the other. Taking a class works so much better for me. This way, I have an instructor who is like my personal trainer, showing me what moves to do and how long to do them for. I can learn dance routines that make the time pass quickly. I get to listen to loud, energizing music to keep me going. And most importantly, I am surrounded by other people who are trying their best too. For me, it’s just way more fun to be in a class with others, than sad on a treadmill by myself.

Tip #7: Get Yourself a Cheerleader

This is my favorite tip because it’s simply the best part of getting healthy. My husband is the best cheerleader I could ever ask for. He’ll stay home with our boys so I can go exercise and supports my diet changes. He tells me how beautiful I am every day (he’s always told me this, but I’m finally starting to believe it). He even helped pick out some new clothes when I started losing weight and complimented me and my work ethic. He tells me daily that I am the best mom and wife he knows and that he and our boys are so lucky to have me. As if the extra confidence boost wasn’t enough, working hard for him gives me that extra push I need some days. It’s an extra motivator when close friends or co-workers notice a difference. Their compliment not only pushes me harder, but makes me truly feel so good inside and proud of my accomplishments.

General Thoughts

You may think that I forgot to mention how great it is to work out with a friend. And yes, it definitely helps and I love the times that my friends happen to be at the gym too. However, my friends are also busy moms and busy moms don’t always have time to take the same classes as me.  So think of workout buddies not as a necessity, but as a nice bonus every so often.

I asked myself today, why am I even writing this? Isn’t it a little embarrassing sharing my private thoughts about my weight?  And I decided that I’m writing this in hopes that someone reading would get inspired to become healthier.  As the saying goes (though it’s absolutely, honestly true this time), if I can do it, so can you. I’m writing this because I feel like a new person. I feel like I can try any class, try any sport, and I won’t fail miserably. Or maybe I will fail miserably, but that’s okay. I got golf clubs for my birthday and we go to the driving range often.  I’ve even golfed a 9-hole course and an 18-hole course and I finally went golfing with my dad and sisters this past year. I’m wearing two sizes smaller in pants and one size smaller in shirts. I like trying on clothes again.

Some days I am afraid that I will go back to old habits. I’m scared that one day of skipping the gym will lead to two days, which will lead to three days, and so I make myself go to the gym every day, if possible. When I stayed in a hotel downtown Chicago with my husband, I actually worked out at the hotel gym. When we went on a family vacation to Florida in January, I was nervous that I’d gain some of the weight back. However, I tried to do more physical activities like run through the sand, or chase my kids on the beach.

I wish I could put the way I feel about myself and my body into words. I’m trying my best to do so. I am a happier person. And when I lose the rest of the weight and really get into the best shape of my life, I can’t imagine how great that will feel. I’ve never really been healthy. I’ve never really been in shape. And even though I am just halfway there, it feels so good.

We are halfway through 2017.  I am excited for the future, but I also think 2016-2017 was one of the most important years for me. I turned 33 and I started to love myself again.

[lisaraewrites]

Letter to a First-Time Mom

October 30, 2015

Dear First-Time Mom,

I know it may be hard to believe, as you stand there covered in spit up, wondering when you showered last, but this mom of three is jealous of you.  Yes, you – the one who is dying for a nap by 9:00 AM and is trying to figure out if that’s chocolate pudding or baby poop on your jeans. Believe it or not, but this may be the best time of your life.

I will understand if you don’t believe me and if you want to laugh in my face. I’ll understand if you think I’m crazy and think that three pregnancies have officially zapped what was left of my brain.  But believe me, when you have two or three kiddos, you will look back on this time with fondness.

I know when I was a first-time mom, I was jealous of the experienced mommies that had two or more children. I remember one time in the pediatrician’s office, I saw a mom with freshly washed and curled hair, balancing a baby (sans drool) on her hip and reading a book to her well-behaved, nicely-dressed toddler.   I felt incredibly jealous. What was her secret? How did she manage two small children and have time to shower and put on make-up? How come I could barely manage to tie my greasy hair into a ponytail, load my single baby into his car seat, and still arrive at the doctor’s office ten minutes late?  

Well, first-time mom, you do not realize this now, but those experienced mommies are just that – experienced. They’ve had more time to figure out how to multitask and how to anticipate their children’s needs. Do you think that well-behaved, nicely-dressed toddler listening to her mother read a book happened over night?  Heck no.  When I go anywhere with my three boys (ages 4, 3, and 3 months), I have a list a mile long of tips and tricks I’ve learned over the years. By now I know to shower when the boys are watching a cartoon in my bedroom and the baby is napping, pack snacks and coloring books in the diaper bag for the boys and put on their shoes, then change the baby’s diaper and nurse him (while reminding the boys to go potty from my spot on the couch), then load the baby into his car seat, help the boys with their coats, and load everyone into the car. I know now that you have to bring your stroller to Kohl’s and that you never want to bring three kids to Walmart in the middle of the day. I know that the sweet spot to do things is between 9:00 AM and 11:00 AM and to never interrupt or skip nap time.

On the surface, I finally have it together. I put together cute, little goody bags for my sons’ Halloween parties at school, bake homemade chocolate chip cookies, post hundreds of adorable pictures of my children on Facebook, and work a full-time job. I have dozens of bags of frozen breastmilk in the freezer, two well-behaved little boys, and a baby that practically sleeps through the night. I have officially become that mom that I used to envy.

Yes, it is nice to shower daily and to wear something other than yoga pants. But I still can’t help but envy the first-time moms out there. Sure, you may constantly be worried that you’re going to somehow hurt your tiny baby, but I promise you, you won’t. There may be times when he cries all through Target as much as you tried to go at time when he’s supposed to be napping. Even me, Experienced Mommy, have times when I’m caught with a crying baby (I just have ten tricks up my sleeve and you don’t yet).

Being a first-time mom has definite advantages. You only have ONE baby to care for. One! When he is asleep, you are home free! You actually get to nap when your baby naps (as soon as you have two, it will be rare that they sleep at the same time, as hard as you try to sync up their naps). Experienced moms always have a pile of laundry to do, two or more mouths to feed, and several baths to give. Experienced moms always feel as if they do not have enough hands, probably because they’re struggling to carry a heavy baby seat and manage to get two more little guys across the parking lot safely at the same time.

First-time mom, you really don’t know how good you have it. If you want to take a walk with your little one, you can go. If you want to spend time with your husband, you can. If you want to stay in pajamas and in bed all day (before your baby learns to walk), you can!  Believe it or not, life is easy with one baby.

The saddest part is, when you are a first-time mom, you cannot enjoy the simplicity of life with one baby because you haven’t learned all the experienced-mommy tricks yet. And years later, after you’ve learned them all, you have several kids that need you at all times of the day and sometimes wish you could go back to having just one.

I do have one piece of advice for first-time moms, even though I know they aren’t going to take me up on it. My advice is to stop worrying so much (a near impossible task for a new mom, I know). If your baby cries for a couple minutes because he was sleeping but woke up as you were showering – it’s OK. You should still shower – it will make you feel so much better. He will be okay. A couple minutes of crying will only teach him patience.  If you have to leave Target earlier than planned to nurse your baby in the back seat of a Prius – it’s OK. Do it (been there, done that). Afterwards you can always go back in the store with a happy baby (remember, you have nowhere else to be because your other children do not exist yet)!  

First-time moms, don’t be too envious of those experienced mommies. Yes, they have learned the tricks of the trade, but you will too.  And sadly, when you’ve learned them, you will wish you were a first-time mom again.  

 Love,

Lisa

[lisaraewrites]

Valentine’s Day: Married with Kids Edition

February 12, 2016

So Valentine’s Day is two days away and I can’t help but think how things have changed since my husband and I were dating. We used to live in Chicago and on Valentine’s Day we’d make reservations a month in advance and eat at the 95th floor of the John Hancock or go to Caesar’s Killer Margarita’s and drink too much and stay out too late.

Oh, how things have changed. This year I didn’t think to make dinner reservations until yesterday, February 11th. I knew everything would be booked for Sunday the 14th so our plan was to go out on Friday the 12th instead. When I called to make a reservation, the hostess suggested 6:30, which sounded just fine to me. The first date night in months was confirmed!

Tonight we both took showers before going out, which I was actually kind of proud of (and surprised by). I stood in the closet for about fifteen minutes with the baby on my hip, clueless as to what to wear. Michael asked if I wanted to wear anything that showed cleavage. I don’t remember if I laughed or just stared at him because the only things in my wardrobe are yoga pants, tee shirts, and teacher clothes. I managed to find a tank top and skirt and Jack said, “Wow, Mom, you look beautiful!” because I’m pretty sure he was surprised to see me in anything but pajamas.

We got to dinner at 6:30 on the dot, because I hate to be late (that hasn’t changed much since we were dating). The hostess said she couldn’t find our reservation so I pulled out the text message the restaurant had sent me with our confirmation. Not that it mattered anyway, because at 6:30 the restaurant was only half full.

We sat down and ordered drinks and an appetizer. I felt lightheaded after half a martini and kept trying to figure out why it was so loud (did that guy seriously have to keep playing the piano?) and dark in the restaurant (we actually had to pull out the light on our cell phone to see the menu).  After appetizers, entrees, a couple drinks, and some good conversation, it felt like a couple hours had passed. We were ready to head home (honestly, we were both a little tired at this point), but after checking my phone and learning it was only 7:36, we decided to stall because let’s be honest, if we went home already we’d have to tuck the boys in bed and though we love that most nights, it’s nice to have a break.

Instead, we got ice cream at Oberweis and drove around south Plainfield, cruising through different subdivisions and ogling big houses. Then we got gas for the car and were upset to see that gas prices went up 40 cents per gallon since yesterday. We pulled in the driveway at 8:45, just happy that the boys were already in bed and we were able to put our pajamas back on.

I’m not writing this to complain. Actually, far from it.  I love my husband now more than I did when we were dating. I love our home and our boys and our lives. In fact, I wouldn’t change our date night for anything. Because what I forgot to mention is that although we couldn’t see the menus and we felt like we were yelling over the piano music, we were able to laugh about it together.  At one point during dinner I said, “Don’t give me any of this old wine, I only want fresh wine,” and Michael responded with, “At these prices you think they’d keep the snails off the plates!” We both laughed because those are a couple of our favorite movie lines.

You don’t have inside jokes with someone you’ve just started dating. You don’t know what they will order off the menu before they order it, nor do you know that they’ll pass on fancy dessert and take a black cherry milkshake instead.  Before you have children, you have no idea how much you’ll savor the couple hours when it’s just you and him. There is something wonderful about going home and watching The Office in your king-sized bed with your best friend.

So yes, things certainly have changed since we first started dating. Our Valentine’s Day is at 6:30 on February 12th now. Our favorite part of the night is spent in a warm bed in pajamas. And if we’re in bed by 10:30, so be it (at least we’ll be well-rested when three little boys wake us up at 6:00 AM).  I love having a best friend that I get to laugh with, make fun of people with, and cuddle with; it’s better than any fancy-schmancy Valentine’s Day we used to have.

[lisaraewrites]

The Worst Part of Parenting

There is nothing that stops a mother’s heart like the moment she realizes her child is sick.  Take yesterday for example.  The day started off uneventfully.  I was on day four of my bad cold; finally starting to cough less and feel better.  The boys were running around playing with presents from Christmas.  Then Lukas woke up from his nap burning up with a fever.  Suddenly my heart tightened and a pit of dread formed in my stomach.  I may have felt terrible for the past few days, but I’d gladly be sick a few more if it meant my child could be spared.

Now, to be honest, I should probably have a few of my friends co-authoring this blog with me, because I’ve been lucky enough to have very healthy children. Both boys are rarely sick (knock on wood) with the occasional runny nose thrown in every so often.  I’ve heard the horror stories from friends of times their children were rushed to the emergency room with seizures, needing IVs, operations, and days of medical care.  And every time I hear such a tale, my heart stops and I wonder, “How did she do it?  What if that child in the hospital were mine?”  And every time I can barely stomach the thought.

It’s truly amazing to me how life comes to a sudden halt when your child is sick.  From the moment I felt Luke’s forehead, I knew he had a fever.  The thermometer confirmed what I already knew to be true; 102 degrees.  I don’t even remember what we were doing at that moment at home.  All that mattered was getting him into a lukewarm bath, lightweight jammies, and some medicine.  The instructions my mom used to tell me played in my head.  Drink lots of fluids.  Get plenty of rest.  Lukas still had a bit of an appetite, so he slowly ate some dinner, I gave him a nice bath, and I tucked him in to bed with some medicine.  I prayed the night would be uneventful.  Please, God, let him sleep.  Please, God, don’t let this be the stomach flu.  Please, let Lukas get better.

He woke up once, just because his diaper had leaked and he wet through his jammies.  I changed him, cleaned him up, gave him some juice, and tucked him back in bed.  I didn’t hear from Lukas again until about 6:30 in the morning, when he climbed into bed with Michael and I and proceeded to fall back asleep for an hour.  He was still very warm.  Worse, this morning he didn’t have an appetite or any energy; he just wanted to lay on the couch and watch his favorite TV show.  I was a nervous all morning.  I wanted to make him better; but clearly, there is only so much a mom can do.  Michael went to Walgreens to get more medicine for Luke’s fever.  I’m usually not a big fan of taking medicine, but when my kids are sick, I’m desperate for anything to make them feel better.

It was hard for me to leave Luke’s side all morning.  If he was resting on the couch, I was sitting next to him.  If he wanted to cuddle or needed more juice, I willingly obliged.  I didn’t care that all he wanted to eat was a pack of fruit snacks and apple juice – I just needed him to stay hydrated.  He had another bath in the morning, followed by two naps.  I felt all shaken up because two of my friends had children who recently had high fevers with seizures.  I was desperately hoping this wouldn’t also happen to Lukas.

I finally felt a small sense of relief after lunch, about 24 hours since Lukas first felt hot.  I took his temp again, because he felt a bit cooler, and the thermometer read 99.6.  The knot in my stomach started to unwind.  Not out of the woods, but moving in the right direction. 

JYWABPCWWWWWWWWWZZZZZZZFGBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBDIIUUUUUUU7LLLLLLLLHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGDDDDD5555AA (Lukas just typed this part on my lap; clearly he is feeling better now.)

This evening, though still a bit warm, we saw Lukas become Lukas again.  He ate dinner, played with Jack, and started talking and laughing again.  This was a far cry from my lethargic little boy from the couch this morning.  Tonight, when I tucked Lukas in bed with his juice, I gave him a kiss, and wished him sweet dreams, just like every night.  I truly hope one more night’s sleep is enough to do the trick and make him as good as new.

So I got to thinking about the no-so-fun parts of parenting.  Trust me, there are several, however, I think the worst part is when my child is hurting or sick and I can’t fix it.  My life stops.  All that matters is that this little person (probably the same one who was driving me absolutely nuts a few hours before) gets better.  I wonder if that feeling ever goes away.  I wonder if your kids get older and you get less worried about them when they are sick.  I’m sure there are different worries that take over.  I wonder if my mom still worries when I call her and tell her I’m sick with a terrible cold. 

One day I’ll look back on today (probably from a room in the emergency room with a kid with a broken bone) and I’ll wish it were as easy as a little fever.  And I’m sure my heart will stop and that knot in my stomach will be back and until my baby is better, life will completely stop.  Days like today remind me to appreciate all the good days we have.  Next time the boys are shouting and running and throwing balls in the air, I’ll remind myself that it could be worse.  To be honest, right now as Lukas sleeps, I’m still a little worried.  I won’t feel 100% until the morning and only if Lukas is cool and eating and back to his normal self.  I know I am lucky.  I know this fever could have turned into something worse and I’m so grateful it didn’t.  My friends and their kids weren’t as lucky.  When I think how worried I was with my little sicky, I think about the other moms who had to rush to emergency rooms with their little ones.  I have some of the strongest mommy friends in the world and I hope, one day when I’m in their situation, I will be just as strong.

[lisaraewrites]

Lazy or Smart?

Today I taught a lesson to my 7th graders about perspective.  In the story we read, one character had a great day, while the other had a terrible day.  The characters did the same activities, but it was ultimately about their different perspectives.  We had a great discussion and I left work feeling pretty good.

When I got home, I found myself putting the boys’ dinner on paper plates.  Gosh, I’m lazy, I thought to myself.  I can’t even take the time to get out the fancy plates (and by “fancy” I mean the kids’ plastic plates with bright colors and cartoon characters on them).  Then, I stopped to reflect on my lesson today.  Was I actually being lazy by using paper plates?  Or was I, in fact, being smart?

Then I thought, I wonder how many things I do that could be seen as lazy by some and smart by others?  So I decided to make a list.

Paper plates.  Sometimes I use paper plates for the boys’ meals.  I have several reasons for this.  We only have a few super cute plastic plates and I don’t want to waste them, nor do I want to run them through the dishwasher a bunch of times and wear off the designs.  Paper plates also make for easy clean-up.  When dinner is done, I toss them out and off I go.  Half the time the boys don’t finish their food or they are done eating in two minutes anyways.  When I use paper plates, I feel better knowing that if they don’t spend time eating, I don’t have to spend time cleaning.  Lazy or Smart?

Cooking.  Once a week I try to cook a large dinner that feeds many more than our family of four.  Then I use the leftovers for lunches for my husband and me to take to work or we usually get another dinner out of it.  Open a jar of marinara sauce?  It can be used for baked goat cheese one night, spaghetti the next, and then meatball sandwiches the following night.  Make a ton of chicken?  Baked chicken one night, chopped chicken on salad for lunch, and then sliced chicken for fajitas the following night.  To be honest, I just don’t want to have to spend a ton of time cooking dinner every night.  Lazy or smart?

Laundry.  With two little boys (and one big boy), I find that I am always finding pieces of clothing strewn all over the house.  I used to collect it, march upstairs, and then distribute it into each person’s corresponding laundry basket.  Then I got lazy (or smart, I suppose).  Now, when I collect various pieces of clothing, I drop it on top of or in front of the washing machine.  It’s going to end up there anyways!  Lazy or smart?

Toy room.  When we first set up the boys’ toy room, I thought I’d be Super Mom and organize the whole thing.  Food in the play kitchen, cars in the Car Bin, Trucks in the Truck Bin, etc.  That lasted a whole hour (while the boys napped).  When two little boys play, they don’t care that you spent three hours sorting every size block into different tubs.  It all gets dumped on the floor in a pile faster than you can say “OCD.”  Now, instead of taking up precious time sorting and organizing, we focus on just making sure things are put in a bin (any bin).  Ta Da!  Toy room is clean and everything is put away (no one has to know that the cars and blocks are mixed in the same tub).  Lazy or smart?

Unloading the car.  I often take the boys grocery shopping.  When we get home, the boys go inside and I’m stuck taking multiple trips back and forth to the car.  While I’m outside at the car, who knows what unsupervised chaos the boys get themselves into?  To prevent lots of unsupervised time, I load up my arms with as many bags as I can literally carry and bump the car door closed with my hip.  I even got a new purse with a long strap so I can throw it over my shoulder and I have my hands free to carry more stuff (or two little boys).  Does the bread get a bit smushed?  Sure.  Have I broken an egg or two?  Yes.  But let’s be honest, I simply do not want to go back and forth more times than needed.  Lazy or smart?

Diaper changing.  When Jack was a baby, I’d happily trot up and down the stairs to change him on his cutesy changing table and I’d take the extra time to dispose of his diaper in the Diaper Genie.  Fast forward to my second child.  Why waste the energy to run up and down the stairs?  Turns out, babies (and toddlers) can be changed just as well on the carpeted floor.  Now I keep diapers and wipes in several rooms throughout the house.  Family room?  Check.  Bathroom for after baths?  Check.  Car?  Check.  Purse?  Check.  The only place I do NOT have diapers, in fact, is in my toddler’s room where a changing table usually is.  Oh yeah, I don’t have a changing table either.  Lazy or smart?

Outfitting my child.  My youngest son does not like to sit still.  Period.  So when I announce it’s time to change his diaper/put on pants/put on shoes he promptly runs in the opposite direction.  Now I make sure I have a diaper, pants, socks, and shoes ready in hand before laying him down.  While he’s lying down, I take care of everything all at once.  It sure beats working up a sweat chasing him around multiple times. Sometimes I even dress the boys in comfy clothes after their nightly baths.  Then, when we are rushing around in the morning, they are already in clothing, not jammies.  Lazy or smart?

Bath time.  This one, I’m pretty sure, is straight-up smart because it actually takes a bit more time, so it cannot be considered lazy. When the boys were very small, I bathed them together.  The baby was just learning to sit and they politely splashed and laughed and were small enough to fit comfortably in the bath together.  Fast forward to now.  Two boys with long legs.  Both want to play with the exact same toy.  Both want to splash and throw water on their brother’s head.  Both want to douse Mommy in water and laugh uncontrollably while doing so.  The end result was a soaked bathroom and a soaked Mommy.  Then I got smart.  I’m always worried that I don’t spend enough one-on-one time with my boys separately so I started bathing them on their own.  One goes first and we spend quality (dry) time together, laughing and playing and talking.  The he gets out, gets dressed, and heads out to play toys.  And repeat.  Dry bathroom and dry Mommy. Lazy or smart?

Anticipating needs.  Sometimes when you just cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and gave baths, all you really want to do is relax on the couch for five minutes.  Usually, just as I am sitting down for a moment, I hear, “MOM!  Can you get me juice?  Can you fix my toy?  Can you come see this?”  And so I’m up again.  Now I play the “Anticipate Their Needs” game.  After dinner the boys always want some juice and a snack.  I prepare both and leave it handy on the kitchen table where they can reach it.  They usually request a TV show or a favorite toy too.  So before sitting down, I turn on their show and make sure the favorite toy is handy.  Then I relax.  When I hear, “MOM!” I can just point to the juice or the snack or the show or the toy from the couch (or from in front of my laptop at the kitchen table, like now).  Lazy or smart?

Cleaning the house.  When my husband and I were just married, it felt good knowing that when we spent a Saturday afternoon cleaning the house, it would stay clean all week.  Then we had kids.  It can be discouraging to clean the whole house, just to have it messy again in a matter of minutes.  I don’t like to think that our home is “dirty” now, because it’s actually still pretty neat and organized.  I just think now we have a different definition of “clean.”  If you come over, I guarantee there may be a few crumbs on the floor, a truck or two will be resting on the couch, and I’m pretty sure a few dishes left over from dinner will be in the sink.  I’ve learned not to stress about these minor details.  I’d rather spend ten minutes reading books or building a tower of blocks with the boys than take the extra time to scrub every dish.  So now our house is not always perfectly clean but I’m okay with it.  Lazy or smart?

I think it’s worth taking a few shortcuts if it leads to a more enjoyable day.  More recently, since the boys are getting a bit older, I’ve begun to find time to write more, or spend time with my husband, or to read a book.  Our home may not look like it belongs on a page in Good Housekeeping and I’m pretty sure I won’t win any awards on Pinterest, but it’s all about perspective.  Our children are healthy and smart and happy and well-taken care of, which from my point of view, is all that really matters.

[lisaraewrites]

Top Ten Reasons Why I Have a Love/Hate Relationship with Teaching

I haven’t had a chance to blog in a while and the reason is most likely because school is back in session and I’m back to work.  To be honest, when I left teaching in June 2013 to finish my master’s degree in counseling, I never thought I’d be a teacher again.  I left most of my posters, books, and “teachery” things at my old school.  I was excited to bid adieu to writing lesson plans and grading papers.  When I went through my teaching files this summer, I threw out most of them, thinking, “When will I ever need this again?”

Turns out, I needed it sooner than I expected.  Teaching jobs are few and far between.  Counseling jobs are even more so.  So, when I was offered a job teaching 7th grade Language Arts in a great middle school three minutes from home, you better believe I said, “Yes!” 

And so, five weeks into the school year, it’s all coming back to me now (cue Celine Dion).  I will say with more passion than ever, being a teacher really is one of the toughest jobs out there!  I love it and I hate it, all in the same day.  It may not entail heavy-duty lifting or getting my hands dirty, but being “on stage” all day takes its toll. 

Last year I was blessed to work in several schools, but I got to observe the action from a cushy counseling office (in truth, not all counselor’s offices are cushy, but having an office with a door that closes is foreign territory to a teacher who is forced to share her space with kiddos all day).  Please understand, by no means is a counseling job a piece of cake either.  I was incredibly busy last year, meeting with students, parents, and faculty, going to IEP meetings, holding individual counseling sessions, making sure all students were on track to graduate, and explaining financial aid for the millionth time.  But, on the same token, I used to go home scot free; no papers to grade or lessons to plan.

I have five years and five weeks of teaching under my belt so I thought it was only fitting that I present my Top Ten Reasons I Have a Love/Hate Relationship with Teaching.  Here goes.

10. Hate: I cannot go to the bathroom when nature calls.

It always happens the same way.  The first bell rings.  I really get into my lesson, dazzling my students with my limitless knowledge.  Ooops.  Suddenly I have to pee.  At any other job I could walk to the bathroom and I could, you know, do my thing.  Not as a teacher.  Because leaving a class of 35 seventh graders alone is a big no-no.  This is especially troublesome when I was pregnant.  Morning sickness?  I puked in the garbage can and hid it from the kids until I could dispose of it later (gross, but true).  Tiny bladder?  Hold it.  Sour stomach?  Wait until passing period.  I feel like my very basic human rights are being violated sometimes.

9. Love: The many opportunities to laugh at myself (and at others).

Take what happened today for example.  There was a piece of Kleenex on my shirt…all period…on my boob.  Seriously, female students, not one of you could have told me?  You let me go all 80 minutes with a tissue on the front of my shirt, exactly where my nipple would be?  I only found it after class when I stopped in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.  Note to self: check shirt before class begins.  And while I’m at it, check teeth after eating lunch, and check to be sure I didn’t accidentally use my white shirt to wipe the marker off the whiteboard (again).  But when I forget to check (which inevitably happens) I just laugh at myself.  And then I go tell the teacher next door and we laugh together.  And then we share a funny story about a student and we laugh some more.  Good times.

8. Hate: Meetings, meetings, and more (boring) meetings.

Though I understand why meetings are important, I shudder at the amount (and variety of) meetings teachers have to attend.  To name a few: staff meetings, team meetings, curriculum meetings, content-area meetings, PBIS meetings, RTI meetings, meeting with administration, and meetings with parents.  Today while in a grade level meeting, we were all confused of the procedures for Outdoor Ed.  One teacher suggested, “What we really need is to form a committee to meet with administration about Outdoor Ed and then to report their findings at our next grade level meeting.”  Yes! I thought to myself, Yes, what we need to have is another meeting!  AND another committee!  We don’t have enough of those either!  In actuality, I laughed out loud because I thought she was kidding.  She wasn’t.  Awkward.

7. Love: Acronyms

I’m not sure when it became super cool to abbreviate everything, but I enjoy it nonetheless.  Today an administrator told me, “Could you email your question to your TL?  I know it pertains to RTI but we’re focusing on PBIS right now.  Maybe ask your TL to put it on the agenda for the BLT?”  WHAT?  Suddenly I was hungry; although I was pretty sure the BLT she was talking about wasn’t a sandwich (lame joke, I know).  I’ve worked in many different schools and I always know I finally fit in when I can listen to a string of acronyms and I understand every bit.  Today I said, “Sure Mrs. Administrator.  I will definitely email my TL and bring it up at the BLT.  By the way, I just incorporated a new RTI strategy and we had DEAR time today.”  Take that.

6. Hate: Buzz Words

To go along with the plentiful acronyms in today’s schools, there is also an abundance of Buzz Words.  I like these much less.  You know what I’m talking about.  A task/movement/standard so incredibly important one year that every teacher has to drop what he or she is doing to focus on it, and then it’s gone the next year.  My old school had a RTI block that was dedicated to improving reading scores.  Everyone, even the PE teacher, led a RTI reading group once a day.  We made huge changes to the schedule and it’s all we talked about.  The following year?  Gone.  Happens every year.  Something new and cool and high priority comes up and we teachers have to change our lessons or change our schedules and make it fit.  And then it’s gone before you know it.  I’ve learned not to get too attached.

5. Love:  My co-workers.

I’ve met a ton of great teachers and counselors over the past few years.  You have to have a good sense of humor to work in a school, which is why I think teachers are so fun.  Teachers take things with a grain of salt, enjoy laughing, and are willing to act goofy if it helps our students learn.  When I taught high school, I was hired with a bunch of other new teachers.  I’m not sure I would have survived that first year if I didn’t have my fellow English teaching newbies by my side.  Looking for a passionate, funny, talented, charismatic friend?  Befriend a teacher.

4. Hate: “New” teacher orientation (Except for that first year when I actually needed it.)

Don’t get me wrong – I really like my new job.  I like the teachers and the students and enjoy going to work.  However, my school district mainly hires brand spanking new teachers.  Therefore, the district has several programs in place for new teachers.  Enter me.  I have five years of teaching experience.  I am new to the district but not a new teacher.  They don’t care.  I have to attend after-school meetings every month.  This month’s topic?  How to set classroom procedures and how to arrange your desks.  Helpful, yes, if you are new to teaching.  Not helpful when you’ve already established classroom procedures this year, and last year, and the years before that, and my desks are arranged just fine, thank you.  I can’t wait for next month’s topic: How to learn students’ names.  (Just kidding, I’m not sure what the actual topic is. Cross your fingers it’s not that.)

3. Love:  Positive interactions with students and parents.

Yes, it sounds cheesy, but so what?  I like sending home positive emails to parents when their student does something awesome.  This year I’ve really been pushing myself to send more positive communication home and to catch kids being good.  So far it’s working out better than planned.  My favorite time of day (warning: more cheesiness ahead), is when I send an email to parents about how polite their student is, or how their student got an A, or how hardworking their student is.  I swear it’s like I gave the parents a hundred bucks.  They always email back, thanking me profusely for complimenting their kiddo.  Parents tell me I’ve just made their day.  Parents tell me how proud they are and how they can’t wait to hug their son or daughter.  What can I say?  It makes my heart happy.

2. Hate: Rewriting the entire curriculum.

So unless you’ve been living under a rock or in a cave for the past couple years, you’ve heard of the new Common Core Learning Standards.  And overall, I understand their purpose and I support it.  But the tricky part for teachers is having to rewrite your entire curriculum to fit new standards.  And then post all the standards in your classroom.  And then tell the students the standards you are learning each day.  And then make sure they care.  And then be prepared for test scores to plummet for the first few years until students get used to the rigor.  And then be prepared to defend your effectiveness as a teacher when students’ scores plummet.  And on and on and on.  Dislike.

1. Love: This job makes me happy.  And I’m good at it.

I did not become a teacher for the money.  Trust me, no one did.  I became a teacher because all I’ve ever wanted to do was help students learn.  I was that kid that asked for an overhead projector for Christmas.  I’ve been a babysitter, camp counselor, children’s fitness instructor, tutor, teacher’s assistant, teacher, and counselor.  It can be hard to watch my husband earn thousands of dollars more than me, even though we both have master’s degrees and we both work very hard every day.  But on the best of day teaching, I get to hang out with a bunch of hilarious middle school students.  I get to laugh about teaching faux pas with the teachers down the hall.  I get to be creative.  I get to talk about books and writing all day.  And best of all:  I’m good at what I do. 

This year, teaching came back to me like riding a bike, and fingers crossed, I haven’t fallen off yet.

[lisaraewrites]

10 Pieces of Advice for New Parents

Recently, a friend of mine welcomed her first child into the world.  And just days before the big event, she asked, “Got any advice for me?”  I am not always good at coming up with great answers on the spot, and honestly I don’t even remember what came out of my mouth that day.  But, in the days that followed, her question had me thinking.  I’ve been a parent now for 3 ½ years and while I realize I’m no expert and there are countless parents out there with more years of experience, I like to think I still have some words of wisdom to offer.  So after careful thought and jotting lots of notes on my pad of legal paper, here is what I’ve come up with; 10 Pieces of Advice for New Parents.

10. Baby wipes are practically the best invention ever.

If you think those little wipes are just nice smelling things to clean up poop, you are only partially correct.  These wipes not only clean up the mess in your child’s diaper, they are great for wiping messy fingers, cleaning the picnic bench before lunch at the park, and even dusting around the house.  I’ve used a wipe or two to clean the kitchen counter, wipe down the dashboard of my car, and clean my I-Pad screen. If you google “uses for baby wipes,” there are a hundred more uses.  They are amazing.

 9. Find a gadget/item/baby thing that saves your sanity.

And realize that what works for your friends may not work for you.  For example, some moms swear by swaddling, but I never swaddled my boys past a couple weeks old.  Some moms carry their babies in slings and baby carriers and although I wish I were good at that, baby carrying never worked for my boys and me.  However, when Lukas was born, my mom brought over a yellow, vibrating baby seat that absolutely saved me.  The seat was lightweight and sturdy and allowed Luke to bounce softly, allowing me to take care of Jack, clean the house, etc.  Best part?  Mom found it at Once Upon a Child.  So not only did it save my sanity and give my sweet baby a place to rest when I couldn’t hold him, but it was affordable.  Score.

8. Set a schedule but be flexible.

Coincidentally, this is the same advice I give to new teachers.  As a parent (and/or a teacher), it’s important to be forward-thinking and have a plan.  For example, if we are invited to a family member’s birthday party, I ask myself a variety of questions.  What time of the day is the party?  Will baby be missing his nap?  Can he sleep in the car?  Will he be hungry?  Who will be there to assist if needed?  How late will we be out?  And then, when my boys were babies, I’d pack baby food, bottles, a change of clothes, diapers, wipes, toys, etc.  Now when we go out, I still bring a diaper or two for Luke, sunscreen, possibly bathing suits, a few of their favorite toys, snacks for the car, and their cups.  I try to make sure my boys nap at the same time and go to bed at the same time every day.

The second part of this piece of advice, however, is flexibility.  You must have it.  No matter how hard you plan, something often goes awry.  Your child is supposed to sleep in the car and wake up well-rested, but doesn’t sleep and is a crab.  Even though you pack five awesome toys, you forgot the favorite yellow dump truck with digger (which is the ONLY toy your son wants today).  You plan to get home to put the kiddos to bed on time but traffic holds you up and they’re in bed late.  Things will not always happen according to plan and that’s okay.

7. Take those books and emails about children’s milestones (and what they are “supposed” to be doing this month) with a grain of salt.

When I had Jack, I read those emails every month.  I compared and contrasted what Jack “should” be doing with what he was actually doing.  Some months I’d pat Jack (and myself) on the back because he was right on track or ahead of schedule.  Some months I’d freak out because Jack wasn’t doing all the things he was “supposed” to be doing.  I remember when Jack’s first birthday rolled around and he wasn’t walking.  I tried to keep calm but I was worried.  Why isn’t he walking?  What did I do wrong?  But, like many children, he figured it out, just a little behind the curve at 14 months.  Lukas has been talking and naming all his letters since he was 18 months old, and yet he still confuses his colors.  But, as he is my second child, I am more laid back this time and I trust he will figure it out.

Keep in mind, that those milestones are a guideline!  Trust your motherly instinct.  If you really feel there is something wrong, by all means, go see your pediatrician.  But most of the time, your child will figure it out (and he or she will not be scarred for life).

6. Remember to have alone time with your significant other.

As new parents, Michael and I had a terrible time in the beginning because we were never alone.  Jack’s needs were always put first (as they should be), leaving very little time for the two of us.  As Jack got older and family members offered to babysit, our relationship improved.  I am blessed to have my husband as my best friend.  I truly enjoy spending time with him.  And so when we can go on dates or out to dinner or just for a walk around the block, we cherish that time.  Sometimes we reminisce when it was just the two of us and we would eat Chinese food and watch TV and not have to “do” anything.  Now we can still order Chinese food but the boys won’t eat it, the only thing playing on the TV is Curious George, and no matter how much we want to stay in bed, there are two little people that depend on us and need us to get up. 

So as much as you want to spend time with your children, taking time to be alone with your significant other will make your relationship stronger (and, in turn, make you better parents).

5. When someone offers help, say “Yes.”

This was a difficult one for me at first.  When Jack was tiny, I wanted him all to myself.  I didn’t want someone washing our unmentionables.  But then, after a few sleepless nights and a crying baby, I came to realize that help from friends and family members is not only appreciated, it is necessary.  My mom was at our house the first day home from the hospital to help hold the baby and change diapers.  My sister Corinne stayed up with Jack that night so I could get some sleep.  My mother-in-law took care of Jack for an afternoon so I could rest.  Although I was breastfeeding, after Jack and I got the hang of it, Michael began to feed Jack a bottle so I could have a break.  Sometimes family would come over to help clean or do laundry.  The need for help increases exponentially when your second baby arrives.  I couldn’t be up all night with a baby and then play all day with an 18-month old.  And when people tell you, “Just nap when they nap,” it’s nearly impossible with two kiddos because they never sleep at the same time.  And then if miraculously they do, how are you supposed to sleep and make dinner and do laundry and clean the house?  Take the help.  And if you are a family member to someone with kids, please offer to babysit or clean the house.  It is pretty much the best present you can give.

4. Keep a basket of diapering supplies in a common area of the house.

This was a tip that I didn’t learn until I had Lukas.  With Jack, I didn’t mind running up and down the stairs to Jack’s changing table.  I even used that Diaper Genie from my baby shower.  Fast forward to Luke as a baby.  I couldn’t run upstairs to change Luke on his changing table because my 1 ½ year old was playing downstairs and I needed to watch him too.  I thought to bring the changing table downstairs, but then I realized the only thing I needed was a basket of supplies and the floor.  In my basket I kept diapers, wipes, and diaper rash cream.  If Luke needed to be changed, my basket was in the same room and I could change Luke right on the carpet while still keeping an eye on Jack.  Yes, changing a baby on the floor is perfectly okay.  Just be sure your baby has a soft space for his head and that you don’t get poop on the carpet.  And that Diaper Genie?  It stayed upstairs by the changing table I never used.  Now I use a new invention to throw away diapers.  It’s called the Garbage Can.

3. Take time alone for yourself.

This is sometime I continually struggle with, even though I know it’s very important to do.  I used to take Zumba classes and I loved going, not just for the health benefits, but because I was alone, able to talk to other adults without taking care of little people.  Now, as my boys nap at the same time (years of training paid off), I like to take an hour to read a book, or write, or eat lunch in peace.  My good friend and I even joke (it’s not really a joke) about enjoying grocery shopping and an iced coffee alone.  As a parent, you need to take care of yourself sometimes, even if it’s just that hour in the day when you eat or shower in peace.  Learn to appreciate the small things.

2. Have a sense of humor.

Understand that as parents, there will be days when you have poop on your hand, pee in your face (if you have a little boy), and puke on your shirt.  The house will be a mess and dinner isn’t cooked.  The baby is crying and you are crying.  You feel exhausted and you haven’t showered in days.  But I challenge you, instead of feeling like giving up, force yourself to laugh.  Because having poop on your hand, really is kind of funny.  And when your child learns to talk, he or she will really say the darndest things.  Some days you will just sit and stare at the goofy things your child does.  Jack used to dance and it kept Michael and me laughing for days. Lukas says the cutest little phrases that make me smile all the time.  Find a friend to exchange hilarious texts with about what silly (or horrible) things your kids did that day.  Share anecdotes with your spouse about what your kids did while he was at work.  Don’t take things so seriously.  You will go crazy if you do not have a sense of humor. 

1. Remember the phrase, “This too shall pass.”

The days of changing diapers, sleepless nights, and wearing spit up on your shirt will not last forever.  Jack is 3 ½ and Luke is 2 and life has changed since they were babies.  I get to shower (alone) daily, they nap at the same time, and when I cook dinner, they are okay being just outside playing in the sandbox where I can see them.  Jack doesn’t wear diapers and they are both talking so I don’t have to guess why they’re crying anymore.  So when being a new parent is overwhelming, remember that this too shall pass.

Unfortunately, the saying also goes for things that you don’t want to go away.  My babies no longer fit in my arms, no matter how many times I try to hold them like they do.  Jack will not sleep on my shoulder like he used to.  Lukas doesn’t fit in his little baby carrier, nor does he want me to push him in the stroller.  My boys’ baby smells are replaced by the smell of sand and dirt and sweat.  And I know that the things that drive me crazy now, I will miss desperately one day.  They grow fast.  Take lots of pictures and videos so that you remember just how little they were and how out-of-control your life seemed.  Because, it turns out that you really miss that beautiful chaos.

[lisaraewrites]

“Mommy, Tell Me The Story of When I Was Born.”

Jack has been requesting this of me lately.  Michael likes to tell Jack the story about how he was the first to hold Jack (it’s true and Michael captured this whole sweet moment on video camera).  And although that was definitely one of the most beautiful, amazing highlights of Jack’s birth, it did not begin there.

It actually began back in the spring of 2010.  I’m not exactly sure how Michael and I knew we were ready for kids (let’s face it, you’re never actually ready) but we were married, both employed, and had bought a house in the suburbs.  We wanted to have children while we were young and so having children seemed like the next logical step in our relationship.

When I noticed I was a few days late getting my period, I took a pregnancy test.  I took the test in the evening and to my dismay, the results came out blurry.  I thought there was a plus sign, but it was faded at best.  I decided not to tell Michael because the last thing I wanted to do was for us to get all excited and not be pregnant.  So I vowed to keep quiet and wake up early the next day to go to Walgreens for another test.  That was one of the longest nights of my life.

The next morning, when Michael went out to the garage to work on the car, I said I had to run an errand and snuck off to the store.  I bought several tests this time, just in case.  And this time, I bought the ones that actually give a digital reading of “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant” because I was not messing around with the blurry plus signs anymore.  I wanted to be sure.

With Michael busy in the garage, I took the test again.  Now one thing the digital pregnancy tests fail to mention, is that you have to wait an eternity to see the result (actually the package does mention this but I was too excited to read it).  The darn thing beeped and flashed for an hour at least (technically, I think it was only a minute, but it seemed WAY longer at the time).  Suddenly, there was my answer, all digitized: Positive.  I was excited, shocked, and panicked, and didn’t know what to do except run like a mad woman to the garage to tell Michael.  And that’s what I did.  I ran from our first floor master bathroom, through the family room and kitchen, practically tripped over our bulldog (in those days, we still had our dog, Santiago), and threw open the garage door.  And I must have looked like a crazy mad woman, because when Michael saw me, he flew to his feet and said, “What’s wrong?”

I’m pretty sure I just stood there and flung out my hand with the pregnancy test clutched in my fist.  “I’m pregnant,” I said.  Then Michael had a funny reaction that I will never forget.  At first he looked excited and filled with joy.  But, in the next few seconds, he quickly sat back down, telling me his knees were giving out.  I don’t remember much of what followed but in that moment we were changed forever because we were going to be parents.

When you find out you are pregnant (and actually really want to be pregnant), you do a few things.  First, you want to tell everyone you know.  Second, you buy and start reading every pregnancy book you can find, and becoming more knowledgeable, decide that you actually shouldn’t tell everyone you know right away.  Third, if you are like me, you start making lists of what to bring to the hospital and start composing your birth plan and sign up for “Your baby is the size of a…insert fruit/vegetable…” emails (I was an overachiever, like a lot of first time moms are).  I wanted to know everything about being pregnant.  My favorite book was (and still is), The Pregnancy Bible by Joanne Stone and Keith Eddleman (I don’t actually have the author’s names memorized but that book is still on my shelf, about three feet from me as I type).  It pretty much covers EVERYTHING about pregnancy, hence the title.  My favorite part was the chart at the beginning that said what was happening to the baby and your body at every week in your pregnancy.   I really did read it like it was the bible.  And then, like most pregnant women, I compared everything it said to what was happening to me.  Sometimes, I was right on track with what the book said should be happening, and I patted myself on the back.  Sometimes, I was behind or ahead of the book and I got all nervous and freaked out (typical first-time mom reaction). 

At seven weeks, Michael and I saw our beautiful baby (or beautiful heartbeat, I suppose), for the first time.  Right after that, we decided to tell our parents.  I wanted to be all creative.  We told my mom and stepdad by bringing a cake for dessert that read “Congrats Grandma and Grandpa” in colored icing.  We told my dad and stepmom by giving my dad a picture frame that said “Grandpa” on it for his birthday (in hindsight, that may have caused a heart attack on his birthday, but I’m glad to report it didn’t).  We took Mike’s mom out for breakfast on Mother’s Day to tell her the good news.  We told my sisters at Corinne’s college graduation ceremony.  I wanted to tell everyone, but we decided to wait until after the first trimester to continue spreading the news.

The first trimester had its ups and downs for me.  The Ups: I was young (only 26), healthy, and had no morning sickness.  The Downs: My clothes began to get tight, and because I couldn’t tell everyone I was pregnant yet, I just felt like everyone thought I was getting fat.  During the first trimester, I wasn’t that “that cute pregnant woman” yet.  I was a bit chubby and my clothes were a bit tight and I was holding in an immense secret that was eating me alive (dramatic, much?).

The second trimester was better.  I was teaching at Elgin High School when I hit my 12th week and it was the last week of school.  I told my students, who were all very excited, including a girl named Ruby who even blurted out, “I knew you looked like you gained weight!”  (It’s a good thing I liked that girl).  Pregnancy became fun.  I got to buy maternity clothes (which outgrew their fun by the third trimester), everyone was excited for us, and I grew this adorable baby bump.  I loved feeling the baby move (or was that in the third trimester?  I can’t even remember), I slept well, and my hair was shiny.  Life was good.

…And then came the third trimester.  Although I gained a healthy 25 pounds in my pregnancy, I felt huge.  I was tired of not being able to see my feet.  It was hard to shave my legs and almost impossible to paint my toenails.  I was teaching 6th grade at this point and there seemed to be an endless list of things I couldn’t do that got in the way of my daily life with twelve-year olds.  I couldn’t play basketball with them at recess, I couldn’t stand on a chair to reach the top of the bulletin board, and I couldn’t break up fights (you know, just in case).  I was tired of wearing the same boring maternity clothes and I desperately wanted to meet our baby.  Michael and I had decided to be surprised about the baby’s gender, which didn’t make things easier.   And then, to make things worse, I remember Michael and I going to Baby’s ‘R Us to register for our shower and then, after an hour of wandering around aimlessly, we left feeling confused and defeated.  How the heck do you know what you will need for a baby when you don’t have a baby??  I ended up calling a couple friends with babies to do research for the time we registered at Target, and then we still chose a ton of things we ended up not needing (another common mistake of new parents). 

Life as a pregnant lady went on.  We had two beautiful baby showers, filled of gender-neutral gifts.  We started painting the baby’s room and building all the furniture.  We took maternity pictures and I finished reading all my pregnancy books.  We were ready (LOL, if we only knew).  I was going to have a natural labor and delivery, and Jack was going to arrive on his scheduled due date because it would be the coolest birthday ever: 1-1-11. 

If my plan had included chasing butterflies and sliding down rainbows, it couldn’t have been more wrong.  It’s funny how I was so sure of how things would go, how prepared I was, and yet everything happened so completely opposite of my plans.  The baby did NOT arrive on 1-1-11 as planned.  Instead, I went to my doctor’s appointment on 1-4-11 and he said my fluid was low and I needed to go home, grab my hospital bag, and check-in to the hospital at 7:30 that night.  What??  None of what the doctor said was in my plan.  Michael and I went home, I got a haircut, we took a nap, we packed our bag, and we had Quiznos for dinner.  We showed up at Edwards Hospital at 7:30, prepared to be induced and have a baby the following day.

Again, that’s not quite what happened.  After being induced, the baby’s heartbeat kept dropping, and the doctors decided that I needed an emergency C-Section, which, of course, was NOT in my plans.  To be honest, I hadn’t even read the part in the book about C-Sections because I was sure I was not going to have one.  After the nurses threw an oxygen mask on me, I signed some consent papers, and I kissed my mom, dad, and Michael (who were all there in my hospital room), I was rushed to the operating room. 

This is where things get blurry.  Whatever emergency drug they gave me totally knocked me out.  I don’t remember much except for Michael coming in to sit by me.  I knew what was happening, but I was in a haze.  Luckily, I very clearly remember a baby’s cry and the doctor saying, “It’s a boy!”  I started to cry (and am even tearing up now as I remember).  I felt so blessed to have our baby finally there with us.  I got to see his tiny face and then he was whisked away to be cleaned.  John William, 7 lbs., 1 oz., born at 1:35 PM on January 5th.

Now comes Michael’s favorite part of the story.  While I was still in the operating room (completely out of it because I don’t remember a thing about this part), Michael got to hold our beautiful baby boy in the recovery room.  I’m still amazed at how a first-time dad could hold a baby in one hand and a video camera in the other.  He recorded those amazing first moments and it’s a video that we still watch over and over and I am endlessly grateful for.

When we got to leave the hospital three days later, I wanted to take the nurse home with us.  Let’s be clear, Michael and I had no idea what we were doing.  I couldn’t believe the nurse was just going to let us leave with a baby.  We drove about 45 MPH in the right-hand lane of I-55 back to our home.  I remember Michael taking a picture of me, sitting in the back seat next to our sweet boy.  The picture shows me smiling, but please understand; I was terrified.

No worries, we eventually got the hang of parenting.  I’m happy to report Jack is now a healthy, smart, inquisitive, 3 ½ -year old, so we must have been doing some things right.  Having a first baby is an experience like no other.  Your baby makes you a parent for the very first time.  It took a long while for me to get used to being someone’s mom (when now, ironically, I’m called by that name about a million times a day by two little boys).  You start to realize that maybe the saying, “The best laid plans of Mice and Men often go awry,” is very true. 

Now believe me, we don’t tell that WHOLE story to Jack.  He just likes to hear how he lived in Mommy’s tummy and how Daddy got to hold him first.  And then he usually asks about how Lukas was born (which is a story for another day).

[lisaraewrites]

To Work Vs. Not to Work

I am a good worker and (for the most part) I like to work.  I have had a job since turning 16 and I have worked ever since.  I was thinking the other day about all the different jobs I’ve held over the years.  My running list includes: Target employee, camp counselor, on-campus clerical aid at Bradley, intern and teacher at Sylvan Learning Center, children's fitness instructor at My Gym, substitute teacher, teacher's assistant, special ed teacher assistant, high school teacher, middle school teacher, and most recently, school counselor.  I like working.  I like to contribute and earn money and be part of a team.  And along with working, I enjoy going to school.  I tell my students that I'm a lifelong learner, which sounds cliche coming from a teacher, but I am.  I recently earned my Master's degree in Education in Counseling, and one day I know I'll go back for another Master's or a Doctorate.  Degrees cost A LOT; not just in student loans, but in hard work and time away from your family. 

So much of my self-worth and self-identity is tied to my occupation.  When I introduce myself I’m honored to say I’m a teacher (and usually it comes up early in the conversation).  I feel proud about the many positions I’ve held working in schools.  I’m at the stage in my career where I can go on a job interview and honestly answer the questions with several examples and anecdotes from my teaching experiences. I work hard and I’m good at what I do. 

But what if I didn’t work?  Of course by “work,” I mean work in a school.  Because, trust me, it is HARD work being a stay-at-home mom.  There are always errands to run or things to clean or lunches to make or schedules to keep.  And most importantly, there are two little boys with endless amounts of energy who want to learn, play, and be entertained.  It’s very rewarding but can also be exhausting!  At the end of the day, it’s hard to imagine anyone else driving Jack to preschool or putting Luke down for a nap.  I constantly feel torn between staying home and raising our children or going back to work. 

On one hand, I’ve worked very hard for my degree.  I’d hate to think that the hours I spent slaving over homework and going to class when I could have been home with my babies was for nothing.  I hate to think that Michael would be responsible for paying for all my student loan bills because I wouldn’t have an income.  If I didn’t work I wouldn’t contribute to TRS and I wouldn’t be able to put money in my Roth IRA to save for retirement.  I’ve worked very hard over the years to make connections and gain experiences.  If I were to stay at home, many of those connections would be lost.

But on the other hand, our children are only young once.  I don’t want to be old saying, “Gee, I sure have a lot of money for retirement but I regret not being around for my babies every day.”  And childcare is expensive!  And really, how do you find someone you trust with your most precious possessions?  My mom used to watch my boys, which made going to work difficult, but manageable.  I knew they were safe and well taken care of.  But this year we’ve moved further away and will have to find a new babysitter if I go back to work.  It’s really hard for me to relinquish control to a nanny when I’ve been home every day since May.  Who can raise our children best, if not their mother?

A factor in this decision is the amount of guilt I feel.  I feel guilty for not working and not contributing financially to our family.  I feel guilty for racking up student loan bills and for earning a degree just to not use it.  But then I feel guilty to not be home every day with the boys.  I feel guilty that I will not be the one picking Jack up from preschool and spending quality time with Lukas and watching them as they grow.  And it breaks my heart to know I’d only get them in the evenings and on weekends.

How do single moms and dads do it?  They don’t get a choice between working and staying home with the kids.  I know I am very lucky to have a husband that works very hard so we can live in a beautiful home, in a safe neighborhood, with good schools for our children.  However, despite my luck, I’m still torn. 

In the end, I know we will choose what is best for our family. I just wish every day that the decision was easier to make.

[lisaraewrites]

Making Friends is Hard

Making friends is hard.  I'm just going to put that out there.  However, it's a life skill you need to learn because you use it over and over again.  It's not like you can just find someone and bam! - you're best friends forever.  It helps to have common interests, be about the same age, and most importantly, be in a similar stage of life.  As I get older, I find that being in a similar stage of life is becoming more and more important. 

Jack made his first real friend today.  I know, right?  I'm still proud and teary thinking about it.  Before I had kids, I had no idea how stressed out I'd be about my kids making friends.  I used to think, one kid finds another kid, they play toys, and bada boom, they become instant friends (did I really just type "bada boom?")  Turns out it’s much more difficult, because duh, kids are people too.  They have their own little personalities and quirks and do not automatically click with everyone.  Jack can wrestle, climb, run, and shout at home with Lukas, but he’s much more reserved with kids he doesn’t know.  He doesn’t like kids who push and shove, even if it just for fun.  Take tee-ball for example.  Last week, a few of the boys were shoving and goofing around.  Jack told me he thought they were mean.  It takes him a while to warm up to new kids.  Even though he said “everyone was his friend” at preschool last year, he never really talked about anyone in particular.  Most of the time he couldn’t even remember their names.  This worried me.  What if he didn’t make friends?  What if no one would play with him?  Which brings me back to my first point; making friends is hard.

When you’re young, your friends are mostly just the kids of your parent’s friends.  Or they are the kids in the neighborhood.  Growing up, my sisters and I were best friends with the little boys that lived next door.  And when they moved, a whole houseful of girls moved in and we became friends with them.  My sisters and I were very lucky to grow up with wonderful neighbors.  Or was it my parents that were the lucky ones?  Because even more difficult, I’ve learned, is finding a friend for yourself that happens to come with a friend for your kid.  Oh yeah, and your kids have to get along.  Making friends is hard.

When you get older, you make friends at school or through sports (although I don’t know all that much about teammates, as I only played soccer and was a cheerleader and due to my lack of athletic prowess, neither lasted long).  Middle school and high school, they say, can be a terrible time without good friends.  Again, I was incredibly lucky to have some really great friends. We had it all going for us; same age, common interests, same stage in life.  We all lived in the same neighborhood with our parents, were dealing with teachers and homework, and went to the same school.  In high school, some of my friends and I even worked at the same job.  At this stage, I’m not sure if making friends was hard, but learning to maintain those friendships sure was.

College is a whole other category on its own.  As a college freshman living on campus, not only are you the same age and in the same life stage as all your peers, but you are also living on your own, away from home, for the very first time.  You are meeting people from across the country (maybe even from across the world).  I loved my time at college.  I found it easier than ever to meet new people.  Maybe that was because we were all in the same boat; scared, away from our families, and desperately seeking good friends to make us feel more comfortable.  I met people I would have never hung out with in high school, because, face it, high school is very cliquey (is that a word?).  Sometimes I still wish I could go back to my college days.  My friends and I were all unmarried and without children.  We were free to be selfish, free to sleep all day, free to eat Hoops pizza at 3 AM without worrying about calories.  Michael and I, both Bradley grads, went back to visit two years after I graduated (three years for him).  It was totally different.  The house I lived in was demolished and turned into a parking lot, the bars all had new names, and the worst part – none of our friends were there anymore.  I think being in college may be the easiest time in your life to make friends.

In the years after college, making friends becomes more difficult than ever.  It’s like you’re being tested on your “friend-making” skills.  What did you learn from making friends when you were three?  Do you remember how to work at making new friends like you did in middle school?  Because after college, everyone is at a different stage in their life, making friendships that much harder to hold on to.  Some marry young, some move away, some work different hours than you do.  You have friends that live in the city vs. friends that live in the suburbs.  Friends that are married vs. friends that are single.  Friends that have kids vs. friends without kids.  You get it the picture.  Some friendships that used to work, fall apart because you live too far away, have nothing in common, or you weren’t ever that close but the commonalities that once held you together don’t anymore.

When Michael and I were first married, we had other married couples as our friends.  We bought a house and even learned how to have friends that were much older than us, because they lived in our neighborhood.  When we had kids, making friends became even more difficult (at least for me; Michael has always been good at making friends).  It’s hard to plan a get together when you don’t want to sacrifice naptime, or your kids get sick, or you used to be able to stay up until midnight but now you’re tired by nine. I’ve found motherhood to be, at times, incredibly lonely.  I wish I could live in a neighborhood where my friends live next door and our kids get along beautifully.  I wish I had a whole slew of friends who lived nearby that loved the same parks and take the same vacations and have children of the same ages as mine.  That’s a big part of the reason we moved to a younger community in Plainfield.  Michael and I need friends, not only for our kids, but for us. 

So Jack made his first real friend today.  The little friend is this adorable curly haired boy, who is also three.  We met this little guy and his mom and his little brother (also two, like Lukas) at a park today and after a couple minutes, he and Jack were running around like they had been buddies for years.  They were racing cars down the slide and sprinting around the park. They were laughing and spraying water on each other at the splash pad.  It made my heart full.  I thought, Maybe he will be okay.  Maybe he will make friends.  Maybe I don’t have to worry so much.  (Turns out the little boy’s mom and little brother are pretty fun too!)

The old saying goes; anything in life worth having is worth working for.  Making friends, truly amazing friends, is one of the most wonderful parts of life, no matter the stage.  But making friends is hard.  Yet, after seeing how happy this little boy made Jack, it reminds me that a good friendship is worth all the hard work.

[lisaraewrites]

What Suprises Me Most (About Being a Mom to Boys)

I grew up with sisters. My husband, although a male himself, also grew up with sisters.  So, you could imagine my surprise when my first son Jack was born.  We didn't find out his gender, making him our 9-month surprise.  Lukas came 17 months later and while my pregnancy with him was completely different from my pregnancy with Jack (I totally thought that meant I'd have a girl), instead, I became a mom to two boys.  Two beautiful, smart, amazing little boys. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about being a mom to boys.  I didn't know much (or anything) about raising boys.  I had friends that were boys.  I had a husband who was a boy.  I had a dad who was a boy.  But raising boys?  I only knew what I had learned from babysitting, working at My Gym, and teaching. 

Jack is now 3 1/2 and Lukas just turned 2.  Although they are not even close to full grown (thank goodness), I think I've learned a good deal about raising boys.  And I've also had my share of surprises, hence the title of this blog. 

What Surprises Me Most About Being a Mom to Boys;

1. How quickly well-made toys can be demolished/ruined/broken.My mom saved many of the toys from when my sisters and I were young.  She lovingly gave them to my boys.  In retrospect, perhaps they should have stayed in storage.  The plastic food was organized into perfect containers.  Now it's scattered into various baskets and shoved into the pretend microwave (no matter how many times I try to keep it organized).  My sisters and I had a little toy house, where even the 25-year old box it was kept in was pristine.  It took about a week for it to be ripped apart by my boys.  Boys are rough.

2. Just how physical they are!Okay, I knew boys loved to run and jump.  But I didn't know they climb on every table and jump off every couch.  I didn't know they start wrestling at 6 months old.  No joke.  In 30 years, I've never wrestled my sisters, yet starting when Luke was 6 months old, he and Jack (2 yrs) would wrestle.  And although I really do not like when they do it, it's still a daily occurrence.

3. How dirty they get.      Sit in the dirt and pour mud on yourself?  Pour sand down your pants?  Food all over your face, hands, table, and floor?  Jump in every puddle, even when you are wearing nice clothes and dress shoes?  Yes, yes, yes, and yes.  Five times a day.  Which takes us to the need to get clean - see #4.

4. How, like little puppies, boys are smelly when wet.  My boys love baths, but I won't sugar coat it, the bathroom stinks when they are in the tub.  I scrub those little bodies and wash their hair, and still, when wet, their hair is stinky.  But dry?  They smell great.  Until they get into some kind of mess (see #3).

5. How little they eat. I thought all boys ate like little piggies.  And although one day our boys will eat us out of house and home, today is not it.  Lukas has always been a good eater, but Jack?  Mr. Picky Pants?  I'm lucky if he eats half his food.  Unless it's Mac and Cheese; then Jack will eat his weigh in noodles.

6. How often their hair needs to be cut (and how difficult it is to style)!My sisters and I always had long hair and we could go quite some time without a haircut. Mom just trimmed our bangs and we were good to go.  But boys?  Jack's hair grows like a weed.  Michael and I bought a hair buzzer because we were wracking up incredible haircut bills.  And then I see all those posh moms with their boy's hair styled so cute with gel.  Jack runs away when he sees the gel or hairspray come out.  If I get lucky and he lets me put it in his hair, it lasts about 2 minutes until he head dives into the couch and smushes it and smears the leather with goo.   

7. How often boys scratch/play with/touch their penis.Or just how often it comes up into conversation.  "Luke, please don't grab your wiener," (while I change his diaper).  "Jack, please stop itching your wiener."  "Mom, if girls don't have a wiener, how do they pee?"  And the confidence level!  Jack told me the other day, "Mom, my wiener is like a fire hose, just bigger."

8. How cuddly and sweet boys are.Although independent, Lukas is the world's best cuddler.  He loves to sit on my lap or hold my hand or give me a kiss.  He has climbed into my lap or sat next to me most of the time I've been typing.  I honestly didn't know little boys were this sweet and kind and gentle (to everything except each other and their toys).  And Jack loves babies.  He says he wants six brothers and six sisters.

9. How easy potty training was.Everyone told me potty training boys was way harder than potty training girls.  For Jack at least (Luke is still in diapers), it wasn't a big deal.  We stayed at the house for three days when I potty-trained Jack.  After about a week, we felt confident venturing out during the day sans diaper.  It took a month for him to loose the diaper at bedtime.  But that was it!  Lots of suckers for rewards and no pants for a week.  July 2014 will be the one-year anniversary of no diapers for Jack.  (Fingers crossed Luke is just as easy.)

10. How much little boys love dolls, cooking, shopping, cleaning, and helping!No explanation necessary, I'm just glad they do.

11. How often they will noticed my new dress or nail polish - and pay compliments.Jack often says, "Wow, I love your dress," and, "Mommy, you smell so good!"  Melts.My.Heart.

12. How excited I'd be to go to their games and practices. Jack started playing soccer last year and this year he's added Tee Ball. Luke just started a sports program too and I absolutely love watching them play.  I have visions of myself, sitting in the stands, wearing an Engel jersey, cheering on my star mid-fielder or seeing my sons score home runs.  I cannot wait.  I don't even think I'll care when I am called a Soccer Mom (I already have the minivan).  But in the meantime it's pretty fun watching them try to hit the ball off the tee or run the bases backwards.

13. How emotional I'd get picturing my little boys grow up. Please don't mention girlfriends, driving, or moving out, because I will cry my eyes out.  As tough as it can be, being a mom, I don't want to picture a time when they don't need me all the time.  I am cherishing this time, when I am the most important woman in their lives.  I cried on Jack's first day of preschool last year and, who am I kidding, I know I'll cry again this year.  I foolishly bought the book "I'll Love Your Forever" about a mom and a little boy.  I have not once made it to the end since having kids because by then I'm crying too much to make out the words.

14. How loved and happy my boys make me feel.I am the one who Luke runs to when he falls down or stubs his toe.  Jack often asks, "Do you know how much I love you, Mommy?"  I am lucky because I get to hug and kiss then whenever I want.  My boys make me laugh and smile everyday.  Yes, they frustrate me and sometimes do things I don't like, but there are no two people I'd rather spend time with (unless you count Michael, so three people). 

I know I still have a lot to learn about raising boys, but I like to think I'm off to a good start.  It feels good to know that I am helping to turn two little boys into loving, caring, hardworking men.  Do I want to have a daughter one day?  Sure.  But if it's not in God's plan, then I will happily fill our home with little boys.  I don't care what job they do or who they marry, just that they are always happy and loved.  And that I'm always the most important person in their lives. :)