3.5 and 10

On the 26th Graham turned 10 months and Liam turned 3.5 years old.

I would blog more, or for that matter, return phone calls, upload photos to Facebook, read, exercise, volunteer, wash my hair, sleep, follow the news or generally organize my life more, if my time wasn't filled every non-working minute with these two little boys.

Aren't they adorable?

This is the season of life I am in.

The season of scrubbing crusty cereal and smashed bananas off every surface on a daily basis in our breakfast room. The season of dashing around pulling foreign objects out of a baby's mouth every two minutes (Didn't I just sweep? Where did that leaf come from?) and playing with construction trucks for what feels like hours. The season of washing loads and loads of clothes caked with milk and crumbs and bodily fluids.

The season of not being able to carry on an adult conversation for longer than 30 seconds due to some interruption from a little person. The season of feeling like I am trying to do a million things at once while accomplishing very little (although I try to remind myself, keeping children alive is an accomplishment!).

Evenings at home go something like this: start dinner, get Liam a snack, get baby in chair and put some food on his tray, work on dinner some more, try to unload dishwasher, answer 50 questions from a toddler like "Mommy, what are you doing?" and "Do I have a lot of trains?", see most of food on baby's tray is on the floor, give him more food, finish dinner, eat standing up, hurry and get back to cleaning and feeding and answering questions. 

[By the way, "Eating Standing Up" will be the name of the book I write about parenting someday (aka never). I catch myself scarfing food over the kitchen sink way too often.]

After dinner, I let the big one watch a cartoon while I dash upstairs for bath and cuddles and bedtime with the little one. Then dash back down stairs for the mentioned construction truck play and then maneuver bath and bedtime and books without too many tears from having to be separated from said construction trucks. 

After that marathon I push myself to clean and tidy up and do the scraping and scrubbing. Then I think about all the other things I was hoping to get done, and I give up and fall into bed exhausted.

With C.J. working long hours, keeping up my own job and taking care of the kids morning and night, I feel most days that I am barely hanging on to my sanity. I don't mean that in a depressed or dire sort of way, I just mean, life is chaos right now. 

First world chaos, that is. I need to keep it in perspective. What exactly am I complaining about here? 

I try not to allow myself to feel stressed about some items lingering for weeks on the to do list. In the season of small children, something has got to give. The house does not need decorating tonight. Those friends will forgive me for not returning their calls. I can't remember every birthday, I can't worry about the gray in my hair or my unpainted toe nails, I cannot make myself into a more organized person, I can't capture all my whirling thoughts in this blog as many times as I would like. 

Every night that my family is safe and warm in their beds and we made it through another day with no major event is another day to feel grateful for. The rest is incidental. 

And incidentally, here is what is happening with my 3.5 and 10. 

3.5 started a new school and the transition has been easy and he likes it. This makes me very happy. 

He is not potty trained. This does not make me happy. No amount of bribery with M&Ms, Hot Wheels or Thomas the Train underwear will get him to do his business in the potty. We try, then I clean up dirty pants, then I give up for awhile. Dr. Brown of Toddler 411 says it is not a developmental delay until age 4. Thank you Dr. Brown, I am clinging to that bit of information.

On the up side, 10 is so big (23 pounds at 9-month check up) that he and 3.5 can wear the same size diapers. This makes things a little easier when packing the diaper bag.

10 is mobile. He decided crawling is for suckers and has developed his own highly effective way to get around on his bottom which I refer to as "the reach and scoot." I turn my head for a second and he is in another room discovering a microscopic ball of lent on the floor (Again, didn't I just sweep??). 

Just this week he learned to push himself into a sitting position from laying on his belly.

3.5 asks a LOT of questions and it is precious. And tough! I don't know why the sun is hot, sweet heart.

He continues to love trucks, trains, cars, airplanes and anything that goes. His favorite book right now is Good Night, Good Night, Construction Site. I highly recommend it for anyone with small boys. We read it several times every night.

10 is over his objections to real food. He basically skipped over the pureed baby stuff and prefers eating tiny bits of what we're having. I forgot what a mess it is when babies feed themselves. 

He is wearing size 12- to 18-month clothes. He likes to clap his hands (when we sing patty cake), wave (when we say bye bye) and high five (which makes him giggle). 

Raising young children comes with so much joy and frustration and comedy and fatigue. Rather than "getting on top" of everything, we are most days just in survival mode at our house. 

If I can post this blog today AND finish up Halloween costume preparation AND cook shepherd's pie tonight, sure, I'll feel like Super Mom. But what really should make me feel super is seeing two little faces light up when I walk into a room and getting their willing hugs and kisses every day. 

I have to constantly remind myself to embrace the chaos. The only tragedy would be to miss the fun of having a 3.5 and 10.