Pruny and Proud.

The other day Lailah was standing in front of me when I was shirtless. (once you become a mom, you always have an audience). She gently put both hands on my belly and said “Mama, you’re pruny.” tracing the lines on my belly with the most delightful smile on her face. Three and a half years ago I would have been mortified; in fact it wasn’t until recently really that I would have been anything but, however, today, it made me smile, laugh a little even. My ‘pruniness’, the lines on my stomach, are not ‘stretch marks’ but a topographic map of the first 9 months of my sweet Lailah’s life. I have found that wearing them with a sense of pride feels much better than wishing they weren’t there. Every breath, every turn, every hiccup, every kick - her growth is embedded in my skin to remind me every day that I helped make something damn amazing. Pruny and Proud, as every stretch-mark afflicted Mother should be.

Rembrandt – van Goh – Monet – Lailah Lux

This kid wants to paint ALL the time. This weekend it was watercolors, and some new techniques. I handed her a straw and told her to blow into the wet paint. The delight on her face was priceless. She would pick up the straw and blow until spit was coming out the other end, delighted at the effect.

I have started hanging her paintings on one of the walls in my bedroom, and I have to say, it is my most favorite wall in the entire house, I smile every time I look at it. Now - if I could only get her to clean up her mess when she was finished without making a bigger mess. Soon enough.

And there is nothing better than a good old fashioned hand tracing. 

Love is in the Air

Andy outdid himself this year on Valentines. I got the most amazing flowers, the cutest vintage Royal Crown Cola Box with some vintage books, and some delicious treats from Alisha's cupcakes. I love and am loved.

I also spent the day with beans, and we made cupcakes. Not nearly as yummy as the ones that Andy brought home. But it's sort of become a tradition for the 2 of us.She has become quite the little helper in the kitchen.

And, here is my favorite picture I have ever taken of her. =)

I’m no mother of the year

This past weekend Lailah and I ventured to the Dinosaur Museum in Lehi. She was stoked to go there, we got there, and she was suddenly tired, and in disagreement with the noises that were being made throughout the building. It wasn’t the trip I had in mind, but it was still fun.

We talked quietly about various things, and I carried her through most of the museum, stopping only to take random pictures of things that interested me. I knew once we got to the excavation exhibit at the end she would perk right up, and she did. I played in the sand with her, we dug for bones, we made mounds of sand that to her were magnificent, if all but a mole hill to someone else. I stood back and I observed her, amused by the things that were amusing her. But, what I also observed was a row of 4 Mother’s and 1 Father, entranced, not by their children, but by their phones. All 5 of them. Now, I am no mother of the year, and I by no means am saying that I don’t check my phone from time to time. But it really is quite disheartening how much people are glued to their phones, and the things that they are missing out on because of it. I am glad that I had a moment with Lailah, we made magnificent mole hills, and excavated the prehistoric fossils of wild beasts, we connected, and that is better than anything I could have come across while looking at a phone. I just wish for the other parents and their children, that they could have experienced the same. 

Every Piece is a ‘Master’ Piece

I love that Lailah loves art, and I feel fortunate to be able to provide her with the materials needed to create. Watercolors, marker, acrylic, glitter, ink, pencil, etc.. It’s messy, and requires a good amount of clean up afterward. And sometimes I cringe watching her use my way too expensive markers, pushing much harder than I ever would, knowing the cost. And sometimes I get her everything she asks for, only to have her get distracted, leaving her paint to dry. But, each time she ‘creates’, it’s something to behold, and each finished piece, truly is a masterpiece, at least to me. If only every child could be given the materials to express themselves the world would be a much more colorful place. If you have a child, allow them to create. It doesn’t have to be expensive. You can use scratch paper, pens and pencils from around the house, materials from outside can be used to create color, a balled up leaf, blades of grass, flowers; the world provides us with mediums that cost us nothing, and our minds provide us with the means to use those mediums to express things that convey what can’t be expressed with words. Create.

Waffles at 3 AM

I have no idea when the last time was that I actually closed my eyes at night and kept them closed until morning. I struggle with sleep on my own, so I need no help being awake when I should be sleeping, but it seems someone else, a small 3 year old, feels it necessary to wake me up every single night. And if it’s not the kid, it’s the snoring husband, my relentlessly wandering mind, or the bastard cat. This morning at 3 am Lailah came barging out of her room wanting a waffle, and proceeded to reach near meltdown when I told her that we don’t have waffles at 3 in the morning. I was able to get her to at least stay in her room and watch Monsters University on the tablet while I went and lay back down. But, I never did get back to sleep, and by 4:30 (15 minutes before the alarm was set to go off) she was back in my room - angry that I had conned her out of her waffle, and pissed off that she had been persuaded to stay in her room. So, like a scene out of Groundhog’s Day, it’s up and at em’, blurry eyed and ornery, wondering how I am going to function at work. This happens more often than not, and I start to feel like I am going to lose my mind. I gorge myself on copious amounts of caffeine and am prone to making bad food choices, I drive my shitty commute in a fog, mind flooded with petty thoughts about how I wish I lived closer to work, about how I wish I didn’t have to work at all, and in a downward spiral it becomes about how I feel like I make more sacrifices than the other half, about how I feel like I do more than I am capable, then guilt sets in. I chose to be a Mom, I chose to be a wife, but so often I feel like I fail at both, and in all honesty, sometimes I wonder why I chose either.  Before you gasp, please know that I wouldn’t trade either for the world, and I am so thankful that we are healthy, and we don’t have struggles that other families have. Life, I know, could be so-much-worse, but these are my feelings right now, and so help me if there isn’t someone else out there who feels the same way. Please someone affirm to me that I am not completely trite in expressing such a silly list of selfish woes. I tell myself things will get better, and I am sure that they will. Someday Lailah will enjoy sleep as much as I do, someday I will have more energy, someday I will be able to have more time for myself, someday I will have the energy to be that mom/wife who has homemade dinner on the table and not some flimsy reheated piece of pizza, someday, someday. Until then, I guess I will just make the best of waffles, at 3 am.