Christmas fun 2013

I'm really enjoying the Christmas season this year. It's been much better than last year. Not that I didn't enjoy last year, but Brielle was a newborn and I was so sleep deprived that I barely even remember it. That zombie walking around on Christmas morning covered in spit-up and unable to remember what she'd bought for anybody, getting on Google to see if it was possible to die from lack of sleep? That was me. 

I'm much more alive and mentally stable this year. And I have loved, loved, loved doing fun Christmas activities as a family--decorating Christmas cookies, making home-made hot chocolate, snuggling on the couch to watch Christmas movies, driving around to see the lights, playing with our interactive nativity set... I wish my zombie self from last year could see it and be encouraged. (Although my zombie self would be more likely to throw a toaster at me than be encouraged.)

Over the weekend, we went to our church's Christmas party and got to see Perrin play the part of a shepherd in the program. I was a little worried--we had practiced singing "Away in a Manger" earlier that day in preparation for him singing it on stage with the other kids, and he kept strategically adding the word "booty" to convenient pauses in the song. (Kids seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to mortifying their parents.) It turns out I didn't really need to worry--he didn't end up singing at all when the time came. He just stomped his feet as loudly as possible while the other kids sang. Oh well... could have been worse. 

Isn't he a cute little shepherd? Thank goodness no one gave him a shepherd's staff.

 

A letter to Brielle

My dear baby girl,

I can't believe you're a year old! (Yes, I'm a few weeks late in writing this letter. You and your brother keep me very busy.) It's so bittersweet to see you transitioning from an infant to a toddler. It's hard for me to even use the word toddler to describe you because it just feels too grown up! But you really are growing up--into a lively, funny, smiley, cuddly, beautiful, intelligent little girl. This past year has definitely delivered some tough moments and sleepless nights, but we've also had the joy of celebrating your many firsts--first smiles, first laughs, first words (including your favorite word, duck!), and most recently, first steps.

We love watching your personality blossom. You're curious about everything (including the bathroom trash can, which you insist on dumping out whenever possible). You love to read books and point at the pictures (you enthusiastically classify every animal as a dog or a duck). No one in the world gets as much joy out of taking off their socks as you do, and I love the cheesy grin you give me when you hold them up in triumph.

I love watching you and Perrin interact. I know he makes you mad sometimes when he steals your toys or plays too rough. But he's your very first friend, and he'll most likely be your friend for longer than anyone else in the world. I hope you'll always be as quick to forgive him as you are right now.

My sweet girl, I have so many hopes and dreams for you. But just know that nothing could bring me more joy than to see you growing up to love Jesus with your whole heart. You may go through some rough spots of doubt and confusion, just as I did. And I'll tell you the story of how faithful God was to me in spite of it all. I'm confident He'll pull you through to the other side too, no matter what you're facing. And don't forget that you have two loving parents who are praying for you and loving you every single day.

I love you, baby (toddler) girl! One year down, and hopefully many, many more that we get to spend together and celebrate your beautiful life! I'm so thankful to have you as my daughter!

Pets / Pests

A little boy in Perrin's class at Mother's Day Out brought his hamster for show and tell a few weeks ago. Perrin is STILL talking about that hamster three weeks later. He's been begging me to get him one. I've told him no several times. Sorry, kid... I know exactly who would end up cleaning hamster poop every week and frantically searching the house for Fuzzy when you "accidentally" let him loose. For about half a second, I vaguely wondered if I should get him something really small and simple to care for, like a fish, to teach him about animals and responsibility. Then the saner version of my brain remembered that he is only three. He's more likely to take the fish on a wagon ride than to learn proper animal care.

So after fruitlessly trying to convince me that he needs a pet of his own, he finally decided to take matters into his own hands. He caught a moth, stuck it in a jar, and named it Uncle. (Don't ask me... I thought it was weird too). Then he decided the moth needed some food, so he plunked a piece of dog food in there with it (and was visibly disappointed when the moth didn't gobble it down. Ungrateful moth.) We kept Uncle for a couple of days, and he seemed miraculously healthy. But I was trying to think of a way to get Perrin on board with setting Uncle free in the backyard because I knew he wouldn't last much longer in the jar.

I went in Perrin's room yesterday and found the jar sitting on his train table, empty. "Perrin, where's Uncle?" I asked. "

Oh, I squished him," he said, very matter-of-fact.

Rest in peace, Uncle. I'm sorry you had to endure the trauma of being the first pet of a very unsympathetic three-year-old.
 

Two kids and a wedding

Yesterday we had the joy of attending a very beautiful and meaningful wedding. We brought the kids along for this one and had been feeling pretty apprehensive all week about what it would be like to bring a three-year-old and an almost one-year-old to a wedding. I wasn't really too worried about Brielle--she's generally content as long as I don't dare to leave her (EVER. With ANYONE. Not even for a millisecond. Need to pee? Too bad.) But Perrin has a tendency to pick very inconvenient times to act a teensy bit... oh, how to describe it?... demon-possessed. Plus the wedding was at 1:00, which is prime nap time for both kids. So I couldn't help but feel that we were setting ourselves up for failure. But what do you do when practically everyone you know will be at the wedding, leaving no one for babysitting? You prepare the best you can and pray for God to have mercy.

So I packed my purse that morning. I had to remove unimportant junk like the check book and car keys to make room for essentials: an iPad, cheerios, three rubber ducks, Easter eggs, a teething ring, fruit snacks, sippy cups, a train, a truck, and a partridge in a pear tree. 

We got there in plenty of time to pick a spot that would allow us to make a quick getaway if needed. Perrin informed me he needed to go to the bathroom, so I went in search of the restrooms while Trey claimed our seats. Perrin wanted to go into the stall alone, so I waited outside the door for him. He was taking a really long time, so I peeked under the door and saw that he had unrolled two entire rolls of toilet paper onto the floor. The toilet paper was sitting in a giant heap. I groaned, demanded that he unlock the door, and began cleaning up the mess. See if I let him go to the bathroom alone ever again.

We FINALLY made it out of the bathroom just in time for the wedding to start. Perrin found his cousin Brandon and the two boys sat with my parents and started quietly playing games on the iPad, which pretty much kept them occupied for the entire wedding. (Thank you, technology. I don't know what I would do without you.) So that  just left us with Brielle to keep occupied and quiet.

She dug through my purse and played with the toys some. Then she lunged forward and began pulling the arm hair of the stranger sitting in front of me (who did not seem terribly amused. Sorry, sir.) The pastor officiating the wedding began telling the story of the couple and how it all started back in 1990 when they were born, only a day apart from each other but 2000 miles away. Brielle chose that moment to contribute a hearty "Yeah!" The few people around us chuckled. (Side note: We are attending weddings of people born in the 90s. I officially feel old).

We made it through the ceremony and into the reception without further incidences. I could tell Perrin was getting a little restless, so I got him some grapes and a small slice of wedding cake. He devoured the cake and pretty quickly realized that there was more yummy food nearby. The good thing about having lots of friends and family around is that everyone kind of helps watch the kids and keep them in line. The bad thing is that everyone assumes that someone else is watching the kids. At one point I was holding Bri and Trey and I were chatting with some friends when I suddenly realized Perrin wasn't sitting at the table anymore. I found him at the food table, snatching baklava and chocolate peanut clusters and shoving them in his cheeks like a guilty squirrel. After we cleaned him up and stopped by the bride and groom to say a quick congratulations, we decided it was time to get the kids home. We were probably about ten minutes too late in our estimate of how long they could last--Perrin came completely unglued on our way out to the car. The excitement, sugar, and lack of sleep had caught up to him at last. He and Brielle both took good naps that afternoon.

So what did I learn from all of this? 1. If you take kids to a wedding, come very prepared. Just dump the toy box into your purse and it'll all be good. 2. When a three-year-old wants to be independent and go to the bathroom all by himself, just say no. Remember that slogan from our elementary school drug education days? It's good for toddlers too. Just say no. 3. If the desserts on the food table seem to be disappearing rather quickly, there's a good chance that there's a sneaky little boy somewhere nearby who needs his mommy to pay closer attention. But cut her some slack--her baby girl has probably dipped her hand into her brother's leftover wedding cake and is smearing it into her hair at that exact moment. True story.

Yogurt, toilet paper, and broken stuff

Today was one of those days that makes me feel really jealous that Trey gets to leave the house for 8 hours every Monday through Friday. Most of the time I'm incredibly grateful that I get to be home with the kids. And most of the time I really enjoy it.

And then there are days like today. Perrin started the morning by painting himself with yogurt. When I insisted that he take a bath, he threw a temper tantrum that lasted nearly an hour (no kidding. An HOUR. Of screaming. My eye is twitching just thinking about it.)

Once he was clean and the sniffles finally subsided, he spilled milk all over my carpet--no biggie, it happens--but then at some point while I was distracted, he managed to glue a piece of paper to our dining room table. Then he flushed an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet. I managed to fish some of it out with the toilet plunger before it all disappeared down the hole, but the toilet was definitely making some gurgly noises this afternoon. Then Perrin found my Kindle and promptly destroyed my expensive leather cover with built-in light by breaking off the metal contacts (this is actually the second time he's broken one of these... you'd think I'd find a way to keep it away from him, but honestly, this kid is so resourceful that nothing is truly out of reach).

By the time Trey came home, I was seething. "Take. Your. Son. NOW." Trey, being an intelligent and observant man, could tell that I was a teensy bit upset. He let me lock myself in our bedroom for 30 minutes while he and the boy had a little chat and my blood pressure returned to somewhat normal.

Perrin came up to me later with his sweetest little voice and said, "Sorry Mama. You forgive me?" The truth is, I was still angry. I was exhausted. And I had a choice about how I was going to respond--I could do what I felt like doing and lock myself away for the rest of the night. Or I could do what I knew I needed to do, and what I knew Perrin needed me to do, and give him a hug and tell him I love him no matter what. I chose the latter.

I tucked Perrin into bed a few minutes ago. Perrin looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes and said, "I want to pick dandelions tomorrow and bring them to you." My heart melted. What an angel.

The big 3-0

Trey turned 30 over the weekend, so in honor of this landmark birthday we dropped the kids off with my parents early Friday morning and spent Friday and Saturday in Branson. We shopped and had lunch at the promenade, nearly drowned each other in the lazy river at an indoor water park (we were definitely not acting our age), saw a magic show, and rode a few roller coasters at Silver Dollar City. Every time we sat down to eat, we just marveled at how nice it was to actually get to EAT and not refill sippy cups or mash up more banana or clean up spills or convince Perrin that spaghetti is not a finger food. It was our first night child-free since before Brielle was born. (And what did we talk about the entire time? Yep--the kids.)

Even with all the fun and celebration, Trey was feeling a little bummed about turning 30. But I get the feeling the 30s might be some of the best years of our life. We're in a good place--we own a home, we have two terrific kids, we both have good jobs that we enjoy (and that allow me to be home with the kids). God has surrounded us with supportive family and friends and a church where we truly feel at home. We have everything we need and a whole lot more.

This is so dorky, but I keep thinking of a phrase from the movie 13 Going on 30 (which, dorky or not, is a really good movie in my opinion): "Thirty, flirty, and thriving." C'mon Trey, let's be thirty, flirty, and thriving!

Or how about something a little more spiritual: "Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days" (Job 12:12). See, we're getting wiser! Actually, I don't feel nearly as smart as I thought I was back in high school. Hmm... maybe that's a sign of wisdom after all.

One more: "Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save" (Isaiah 46:4). Trey, you can just insert "bald head" in place of "gray hairs" and you'll get the gist. :)

Kidding! ...sort of.

Race day!

This blog post is probably going to come across a wee bit self-congratulatory. Fair warning. I'm just feeling really excited because I DID IT!!! I ran an entire 5k without stopping! I know people run 5ks all the time (and my mom and sister both have a marathon under their belts, which makes it hard to feel good about a measly 5k), but I have to stress that I am NOT a runner. My sport growing up was softball, where the farthest you ever have to run is around the bases, and only if you happen to get a home run (so, yeah, I didn't do a lot of base running).

The Color Me Rad 5k was a good race for a newbie like me. It was a casual atmosphere and as far as I could tell very few people actually attempted to run the whole thing. That could have had something to do with the fact that it's June in Arkansas--automatically not the best racing conditions. Or it could have had something to do with the massive hills we had to go up and down. (Okay, okay, they weren't massive. But when you're in the middle of running up them, they might as well be Everest.)

To add to the fun, we got blasted with colorful chalky stuff (yes, that is the official term) every five minutes or so. Here's a picture of me and Trey post race:

 



Don't we look rad?

I used to say that I would only run if a serial killer was chasing me (not just your garden-variety murderer, mind you. It takes a lot to motivate me to move much faster than 2MPH.) But after this experience I feel like I would maybe possibly do a race again sometime. No serial killers necessary.

My excuses

I just realized today that it's been over a month since my last blog post. I apologize to my faithful followers (all three of you). We're in an incredibly busy season of life at the moment, and as much as I want to document every interesting/weird/funny moment of my family's life, sleep usually wins out at the end of the day.

Perrin flooded our bathroom last week and it actually would have made for a pretty good blog post (well, it would have once I got past my fury). But I never could find a spare moment to jot it down. Oh, well. Long story short: He plugged the sink and left the water running for about half an hour before I realized it. I stepped into the bathroom and was instantly in water up to my ankles. I had some semi-sarcastic commentary all planned out in my mind for the blog, but it's gone now. Maybe it's best I forget about that whole fiasco anyway.

Aside from the day-to-day chaos of raising a toddler and an infant, Trey and I are also training for a 5k, so we're out running three times a week now. We've been training for 8 weeks and can both run 2.5 miles without stopping--a big accomplishment for a couple of couch potatoes! I'll try really hard to make time to write a blog about race day next month (if we survive, that is).

I was much better about keeping up with the blog when Perrin was a baby. It seemed like I documented every milestone, growth spurt, amusing anecdote, and temper tantrum. Brielle is growing up so fast and I've hardly written any of it down. Just within the past week, she's started scooting backwards across the floor, has sprouted her first tooth, and has learned how to give kisses. I feel like these precious moments are slipping away before I have a chance to fully savor them. Someday she'll ask me, "Mom, how old was I when I learned to crawl?" Or, "What was my first word?" And I'll either have to make something up or admit that I didn't keep up with her baby accomplishments with quite the same dedication as I did for Perrin.

On second thought, I'll tell her this: "Brielle, I may have forgotten a few of the details and special moments, and I may not have done a great job of documenting your life as a baby. But some things are unforgettable, including your sweet baby grins and giggles, the way you loved to splash around in the bathtub, and the way you looked when you were nodding off to sleep in my arms. The only reason I didn't write down every precious detail in those early months is that I was too busy enjoying you. You were in my arms practically all day every day, and I wouldn't have given up those special moments with you for all the dozens of posts I could have been writing."

I do love having old blog posts to read back over to remind me of the special moments, but even more than that, I love living the special moments. And if that means I only have the chance to blog once a month (or less), so be it.

Vacation!

I love vacations. That's probably an understatement. If the cost of an annual vacation means I have to drive a junky car, cook all my meals at home, and forgo cable TV, so be it. Totally worth it, in my opinion.

Lately I've been getting the vacation bug, so Trey and I made a somewhat spur-of-the-moment decision to spend a long weekend (4 days, 3 nights) with the kiddos in Branson. I wasn't sure if going on vacation with an infant and a toddler meant that we were adventurous or just plain crazy. But you know what? It was great!

We went to Silver Dollar City, hiked in the woods at our lakeside resort, swam in the indoor pool, went out for ice cream, played mini golf, and visited the Butterfly Palace. (Not all in one day... we're not THAT crazy.) Yes, it was a little more work going on vacation with kids, especially since I'm still nursing Brielle. But it worked out just fine. And now that Perrin is big enough to ride most of the rides, I think I've discovered a new riding buddy! We went on lots of rides together, including ones that Trey refuses to go on with me (i.e. anything where he might come within ten feet of a drop of water). Even Brielle got to have some fun--we took a train ride together, played in the ball pit at Geyser Gulch, and rode on a boat through a flooded coal mine. Plus she loved watching the butterflies... and she loved the attention from fellow tourists who couldn't resist grinning at her happy squeals.

Vacation with kids is a little less romantic and a lot more work than our solo trips have been, but the extra work is rewarded with the great family memories we're building.



This was Perrin's first time to play mini golf. He was so cute (and ridiculously bad) at it! After the first few holes, he just started placing the ball about an inch from the hole, then scooting it in with the putter. Then we'd all clap and celebrate that he got it in the hole. So fun!

 

We're looking at some rainforest critters at the Butterfly Palace. I asked Perrin if he wanted to take the animals home with him, and he said, "No, they would eat all my toys."

Brielle was so happy to be on vacation!

 





Weekly date night

What do you get when you cross an oatmeal-stained ceiling, a dog with stickers on her back, and a strange smell coming from the bottom of the toy box? Daily life in the Richardson house! Seriously though, as much as I joke about the craziness of life with little ones, sometimes I just need a break from it all. Unfortunately, Trey and I aren't in a position to hire a babysitter every week just so we can get out for an hour or two of refreshment. So a couple months ago I came up with what might be my best idea of all time: weekly date night at home.

We've declared every Friday night "date night." We do our best to get the kids to bed early (7:30ish), and we have a few uninterrupted hours where we focus just on each other--no kids, cleaning, work, or stress of any kind allowed. We take turns planning date night. For example, last week was my week, so after the kids were fast asleep, I made hot chocolate and we went out to the car and curled up under a big blanket, listening to music and talking. I made "conversation hearts" out of construction paper and whenever we reached a lull in the conversation, I let Trey pick a heart and we would discuss the topic or question on it.This week is Trey's week to plan it, so I'm not sure what we're doing, but I think it involves games and cocktails. Sometimes we bake together; sometimes we play video games or watch a movie; sometimes we do a project or activity (crossword puzzles, looking through photo albums, creating "art" of some sort); sometimes we read and discuss Scripture. We might do scavenger hunts, photo shoots, puzzles, etc. The list goes on and on. It's surprising the amount of things we can come up with! Friday night has become my favorite night of the week... it gives us something to look forward to and gives us a much-needed break from focusing all our energy and attention on the kids. Planning date night is fun because I get to decide what we do and what we eat (and thanks to Pinterest, I have LOTS of good food ideas). But letting Trey plan it is fun too because I don't have to do anything but wait for whatever surprises he has in store for the night.

Honestly, date night has become so important to us that I don't know how we survived without it! I highly recommend it for all you parents out there. And if you have your own "date night at home" idea, I want to hear it! Cuz I might steal it. :)

Three!

My sweet little boy is 3 years old! He's getting so grown up... he loves making friends and telling jokes and asking "why" a thousand times a day. He's so smart and funny and energetic, and I love seeing his personality develop. He's so interested in the world--he truly loves to learn, and he's so creative and spunky.

We had a great time celebrating his birthday over the weekend. We rented a huge bounce house and invited a few of his pals over. We bought him a Thomas birthday cake (cuz the boy is OBSESSED with Thomas and anything train related). It went great--Perrin loved playing with his friends and opening presents, no one got hurt in the bounce house, and I'm guessing every kid slept really good that night after bouncing up and down for a good hour and a half.

Although I miss the baby he's grown out of, I love the curious toddler he's become. He cracks me up every day. Here's a tiny taste of what life is like with him--these are questions Perrin has asked me in the past 24 hours:

"Is Brielle baby Jesus?"
"Can I build a giraffe?"
"Do trains go pee pee?"
"Can I shoot you with silly string?" (by the way, I let him... and I wish I'd gotten his maniacal laugh on video)
"Can you take your hair off?"

And on and on it goes. He gives me good blog fodder every day, but I never get around to documenting most of it. I really should start writing things down more. Three years has gone by quick... I'm sure the next three will too, and before I know it he'll be out of this hilarious stage where nearly everything he says makes me smile.

Happy birthday to the best unintentional comedian I know!

Tackling tough topics

My grandfather passed away last week. We'd been expecting it for awhile (he's been battling cancer for a couple of years), but even though we were prepared and even though I can be glad he's no longer suffering, death is always sad. And it presented a new parenting hurdle--how much should I tell Perrin? How much is he capable of understanding?

The funeral was about a 5-hour drive away, and unfortunately Trey couldn't get off work. So I loaded up both kids and a ridiculous amount of luggage for a one-night stay, and the three of us trekked off to Missouri with my parents and Julie. When Perrin found out we were going on a trip to Missouri, he asked about "Big Ba" (which is the name he gave to my grandpa). I explained that Big Ba had died, and that meant he wasn't sick anymore. Perrin seemed content with that explanation, so I didn't bother elaborating.

When we got to the viewing (open casket) on Monday night, I decided to take my cues from Perrin. If he wanted to go see Big Ba, I would let him, but I wasn't going to push him toward that if he wasn't interested. Perrin hovered a little ways back and kept asking me, "What's Big Ba doing?" I'm sure he noticed relatives around him crying, and I think he wanted some assurance from me that everything was okay. I sat him on my lap and told him again that Big Ba had died. I explained that he had gone to heaven and we would see him again someday. I was feeling very somber and hoping I had given the right amount of information for him. Perrin looked at me with wide eyes--apparently he thought I said "Kevin" instead of "heaven"... (Kevin, in case you don't have a two-year-old obsessed with Thomas the train, is a piece of machinery that works at the Sodor Steamworks), so he got excited and asked if Big Ba was with Kevin and Thomas. I cracked up. I couldn't help it. Here I was trying to explain death to my toddler and worrying that I was going to crush his little heart once he realized what was really going on, but he was imagining his great grandfather having a jolly time with all his train friends.

For Perrin's sake, I'm glad he's not quite old enough to understand death. I'm glad he's picturing Big Ba playing with trains on the Island of Sodor. I'm glad as a parent that I can dodge this tough topic for the time being. I know someday he'll understand death and he'll lose someone he loves. I wish I could protect my children from every heartache, but it's just not possible. Fortunately, I can point them to a God who loves them, who is in control, who understands their fears and pains, and who has already defeated death for our sakes.

Big Ba, we'll see you again someday. I'm so glad you're no longer in pain, and I smile every time I think of you seeing your wife and son again. Save us a seat, okay? Oh, and Perrin requests that you say hello to Thomas and Kevin for us.

It takes two

Trey's been in Denver for the past few days for work, which means I've gotten to experience a brief glimpse of single motherhood to a 2-year-old and a newborn. Single moms: HOW do you do it?? Trey: Please please please don't ever leave me ever ever again!

Yep, I've decided I'm simply not cut out to do this alone. Both kids are very needy at the moment (Brielle because she's a newborn, and Perrin because there's a new baby in the house... and he's still only 2 after all), and I constantly felt like there wasn't enough of me to go around. (WHY does Perrin ALWAYS decide he needs help using the bathroom when I'm in the middle of nursing Brielle? Poor girl never gets an uninterrupted meal these days. I guess she gets him back though because she always wakes up screaming when I'm trying to fix him breakfast. The sibling rivalry has begun.)

Anyway, I think Perrin had a tough time with his daddy being gone, too. Last night he woke me up at 11:00, crying and saying he wanted to snuggle. I assumed he was probably missing Trey and just needed a little love. I hugged him and carried him back to his bed, prayed for him and said good night. End of story. Right? Nope. He showed up again at midnight. I repeated the process. Then again at 1:00. Repeat. Then again at 2:00. Repeat.

But as I sat here today feeling tired and sorry for myself and counting down the minutes until Trey would be back home, I realized how blessed I am that I have someone to rely on and help me raise our kids. Lots of single moms do it day in and day out with virtually no help and no end in sight. I've never thought much about single moms and what they have to do to provide for their families, and I know my four days alone (and working only a couple hours a day instead of full-time) isn't sufficient to really show me the extreme difficulty of it.

In summary:
1. I'm extremely thankful for my husband and so glad that he's back home
2. I have the utmost respect for single moms who are making the best of a very tough situation
3. I need to stop my whining, because I'm pretty darn fortunate
4. But I am still very, very tired today so I'm going to call it quits and go to bed