A Mexican Called Me Fat

God knew what he was doing when he gave me my baby girl. He looked down from the heavens, saw that my Type A personality was doomed for disapointment in a world that doesn't have a concrete set of rules and instruction manual. And so he gave me her, a surprise, to soon, in my opinion, after her big sister.

The first year I wanted to send her back. She wouldn't sleep, wanted no one but me, would hit a newborn baby if I dared hold it in my arms. I would call my mom in tears, not knowing what to do. Why was it so hard?

And then, something happened. She got her voice around 18 month and it was if her world opened up - no longer holding her back. People would laugh at this tiny little bundle of energy speaking complete sentences. Engaging it conversations. She had so much she wanted to say. She had arrived. She is headstrong and witty and unafraid to speak her mind. She is downright silly. She has a temper and isn't afraid to fight. Timeouts and screaming don't do a damn bit of good. She will listen when she is ready.

She licks the table at breakfast and if you question her, you are the crazy one. Because there is syrup on it. Well, that makes sense now. She is always ready with an answer when her by-the-books big sister asks a question like "Where are all those birds flying Momma.?" "To Hobby Lobby," says Weesie. Of course that's where they are going. She pretty much has an answer to everything in fact. Why the bad mood Weesie, "A witch turned me into a toot." Good job shifting the blame.

But her tough attitude is just a cover for her gentle heart. Unafraid to speak her mind but afraid of anything that moves fast or goes to high (including car washes), she cried when her sister wanted to jump on an aerial trampoline. She is kind, and gentle and sticks up for her family.

And she keeps me on my toes. Looking sad one day I asked her what was wrong. If anything hurt. She replied, "Yes Momma. My feelings." My heart broke. "Why do your feelings hurt?" She replied, "Someone called me fat." Now I was mortified, afraid of what the pre-teen and teen years had in store for us. "Who called you fat?" "A Mexican." And now I could laugh.

She will read a book cover to cover making up the words. While in the bathroom. And at school, asking classmates to bring her books.

I thank God everyday for sending her to me. As we get closer to her turning 3, I am amazed at the little person she has become. I wouldn't trade a sleepless night, a public meltdown, a dinner-time battle, a battle of wits for anything. She is the person I wish I could be more like.

Why do we have kids?

Alot has happened recently that has me questioning -  why do we have kids? From facebook groups for babies passing well before their time to dear friends grappling with diagnoses no parent should ever have to hear. Nightmares and skinned knees, broken hearts, broken spirits, weekly visits to the pediatrician to clear up illnesses that just won't go - why do we do it to ourselves? Before having kids I didn't know how vulnerable they leave you. You open your heart to disappointment, fear and heartache. A very wise woman once told me that every time you see your baby hurt it leaves little scars on your heart. So wouldn't it be easier to just not deal with it?

Without kids my husband and I could take that Fiji vacation we've always dreamed of. I wouldn't be up at night worrying about how we're  going to pay for school. I could sleep 7 hours straight. I could take up a hobby, pursue some interests. My house would be clean and I could afford to furnish it in whatever matter I deemed appropriate, white couches and all. I wouldn't get a lump in my throat every time I thought about something happening to them. I could go to the bathroom by myself.

So why do we do it? Because they have provided my life more meaning in the four short years since becoming a parent than in the entire 30 before. Because my heart has grown in ways I didn't know possible. I have laughed so hard water has come out my nose and I have cried in frustration. And cuddling during story time makes my heart melt. I have created life, and now I get to cultivate it and watch it grow. And seeing the pride they take in learning things that I take for granted is pretty awesome. I get to have dance parties and spin around in the grass until I get dizzy. I bake cupcakes and clean up finger paint messes. Yes, I have wiped countless noses and booties. But I have also witnessed naked kids riding scooters through the house. I am smarter because of them. They have taught me that at the end of the day birds travel in flocks to Hobby Lobby and that the moon likes guacamole. Oh, and if you have to reach the moon, a giraffe is your best bet. And when I hear them giggling together its impossible not to smile. Sometimes my heart feels like it is going to burst. Because I can say that I honestly, truly know love. Mad, passionate, all-encompassing love.

They make me want to strive to be the best person I can be, because I want them to be the best people they can be. And I want so bad for them to be proud of me. They teach me that life is made up of tiny moments. And all the imperfections in those moments. They are beautiful, amazing, innocent people that view the world as a wondrous place.  They make me keenly aware of my own mortality, and how there are no guarantees in life. And it's hard. Really hard. And I know it will only get harder. I know that. And yet I accept the challenge. Because the rewards are so great.

Tucking my oldest in bed last night she wouldn't let me go. "Mommy - I love you sooo much. I just can't stop hugging you!" I think that pretty much sums it up.

Happy New Year

My husband says I am like a tornado. I come in, make a mess and leave;) Never truly finishing one thing. I used to argue with him, but with age comes wisdom. I can't seem to finish anything. I don't always remember being this way. Maybe it was having two kids 17 months apart and becoming a stay-at-home mom. Maybe it's the 3am wake up calls to let me know they fell out of the bed or want a banana. Maybe its the laundry that never seems to get done. Or the dinner that needs to be cooked. Or the fight that needs to be broken up. Or the boo boo that needs to be kissed. Maybe it's fear. I could go on. But I won't. Because to kick off the new year I am making a resolution - and one that I am going (to try really, really) to keep. I will do what I say I am going to do and I will finish what I start. Because there are to many inspirational quotes on pinterest telling me it is possible.

To put me in the right frame of mind I re-read Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project." I love that book. I've tried reading books from the likes of spiritual masters like Eckhart Tolle and quite frankly, I don't get them. I really tried, but honestly - they just aren't for me. But Gretchen approaches things differently. As a mom, a wife, a lawyer turned writer. So I can relate. I bring up the book because it provided me many "ah-ha moments". And reading it a second time, one line really stood out to me - "Don't let perfect be the enemy of good." 

Which brings me full circle back to my resolution. I think I stop doing things because I'm worried they won't be perfect. I tried sewing for a few weeks, jogging for a month, painting a piece of furniture that has sat in my garage for almost a year and starting a blog that hasn't seen a post in three months. But when I get out of my comfort zone and worry what others might think I come up with an excuse why I can't finish. God, I hate it when my husband is right.

I hope 2013 is filled with exciting new ventures, a lot of laughter, a few completed DIY projects and the acceptance that pretty good is sometimes the best we got. And that's plenty.