All Alone.

Came home boy-less (the little boys are camping with Nawnie and Ampa, and the bigger one is golfing) and the first thing I did was strip off my shirt. It's wonderful to be able to walk around in just my bra with no boys around. Haven't been able to do this in years, and I miss is terribly. There is something so freeing and  comfortable about it, especially when it's hot and I've been dealing with sweat pools in my pits all day. (o boy. Have I said to much? I am sure Joey has loved the small hiatus on the blog. But I'm back now, sweat pools and all).
It's funny coming home to a quiet house, my ears ringing to the silence. I'm loving my alone time but all it takes is to walk by Noah's room, see his empty crib, and I am suddenly missing him, reminded how blessed I am to have my boys.
But now back to the alone time. It's fabulous. My body feels like it can relax, there is no noise, no needs needing to be met, just me, walking around in my bra, eating snacks.

Waiting on the Weekend.

Today was typical, long. I teach Balletone after work. I have time to kill, which is fine by me because that means I can drive stress free over to Saint's, instead of driving like a mad woman, white knuckling it through yellow lights. I took a step class tonight before my class. I realize I am joining the step craze a little late but it's fun. I like the teal, pink, and black steps. Makes me feel like a real bonifide woman doing step. I don't know, maybe you aren't really a woman until you've mastered step aerobics.
I met my friend for lunch, which made my day a little brighter, a little shorter. We sat and talked in the sun. I felt a sisterly bond towards her as I said goodbye; maybe because I've known her for a while now, or maybe I just miss my sisters, especially the older one, so much right now. Of the three of us, she is the last one I thought would live outside the US, but there she is, halfway across the world. There's a nine hour time difference which makes telephone calls tricky. One or the other of us is either just getting up and the other is doing the bedtime routines for our boys.
I'm looking forward to this weekend. Daelynn and Chuy and the girls are in town; I love seeing my little sister's beautiful  family. It's so fun to have girls around.  Ethan is going to be camping with Nawnie and Ampa, and we will join them for one or two days.
I'm sort of in a funk, if you can't already tell. I think it could be one of a hundred of things, including but not limited to: busyness (haven't I just been talking about how I love that?), not seeing my husband, my period on her way, my body adjusting to half the amount of exercise it's been used to getting, my butt expanding due to the previous mentioned,  nobody caring about my expanding butt except for me and my extra tight pants, and busyness. I feel like I need a vacation, time to do nothing, read, connect with my boys, make love with Joey, and pray. The weekend is only two days way, thank God.

Just Stuff.

Haven't written in a while because there is no time, no energy. During the week I see Joey for minutes at a time and our weekends are jammed packed with tball, family bbq's, shopping, and house cleaning.
But in all the busyness I feel like we have a functional routine and I like feeling productive. It also makes the relax times that much more relaxing. I cherish my Sunday afternoons: after putting the boys down for their naps, I wiggle into my bikini, grab my tanning oil and head up to our patio with a icy drink.  I rest (or talk with Joey if he comes up with me) while I let the sun sink into my skin, relaxing my muscles.
For some reason I'm living with less fear, less of a death grip on life as I thought it would be. As unsettling as it is, I'm seeing that things don't have to be the way they always were, that things can change and that's alright-more than alright, change in a lot of ways brings new life.
I know that's all vague and weird, but it's just something that I've been realizing lately and it's exciting because it means there's opportunities for newness. Which I always need, being so afraid of growing old, having already had the best years of my life, etc etc.  You know, all that bullshit.
My boys are growing up right before my eyes. They look so similar it's almost a little creepy, even to me and I am their mother. I'm still trying to figure Noah out-I think he's still trying to figure himself out. He has to have any seat he's in buckled, he will throw food at any chance he gets and this evening he dumped a full salt shaker all out on the kitchen floor.
And we are supposed to survive this? And still be functional adults?
**note to self: if you want to feel like the worst mother ever to walk our planet earth,desperately put ear plugs in at two in the morning (after listening to your two year old scream for two hours) and then wake up two and a half hours later to him still screaming. Go in his room and find him behind the rocker, alternating between hitting his head on the wall and the chair like some person in an insane asylum getting weened off crack. Then wonder how long he's been out of his bed in the pitch black screaming his head off, and realize the clunk you heard two and a half hours ago when you decided you were done and put the ear plugs in was not his sippy cup of milk like you thought it was but actually it was him, falling out of his crib for the first time. Two and half hours ago. Yeah, think about that. It's a lovely thought.
But you know, other than that sort of stuff life over here is actually going really well. As I was leaving work today I thought, probably for the hundredth thousandth time since I started working how much I like to work and how much more functional this is for our family.
I'm still seriously dealing with mommy guilt but I kinda just tell it to shut up because I know this is better for us. I try to take advantage of the time I get with my little guys: the bed time stories, games after work, and fun filled weekends (which reminds me! I got myself Joey a fire pit for Father's Day and I love it! We've used it twice and it's like camping, only right in our backyard! I get to watch the dusk turn into night, listen to the crickets come out, enjoy a glass of wine while watching the warm flame do it's mesmerizing dance right before me! It's absolutely perfect as long as our neighbors decide not to blast eighties rock music out their back door. That kinda ruins it.)Where was I? Mommy guilt. So yeah, besides right now, I try to spend most of my off time with the boys. Which, sigh, reminds me I need to go do that now. It's bedtime, baby.

Pukies and Blanket Jealousy.

I spent the better part of yesterday (as in on the hour, every hour) puking my brains into the toilet bowl. Thankfully Joey had decided to take the night off anyway so he was able to take care of the children.  I still vote that the hardest thing in life (besides maybe being in a cave alone and chopping your pinched arm off with your own pocketknife) is trying to take care of young children while you are puking your brains out, on the hour, every hour.  I tried my bestest to get up and get going this morning ( I want to eat! I keep fantasizing about ice cream floats, and coffee, and Hot Tamales),  but my body won't have it. I am weak and get the chills if I stand for too long and when I tried a bite of bagel it sent me running back to the toilet. Ugh.
It feels like Oregon in Reno today, all wet and grey. I once thought I'd like it up there, all the green (it is so beautiful!) but I miss my sun. By the end of the week it is supposed be in the mid seventies and sunny. I can't wait to feel the sun on my skin, soak it up, be done with this sickness and this forever winter we seem to be having here in Reno. I'm ready for bathers and bbq's, sand and a cold, fizzy drink.
Joey ran in the RTO this weekend (so glad I wasn't puking then!).  The boys and I went over to Jen's for dinner on Friday night. They made me a pink birthday cake and white frosting and pink and purple sprinkles, picked out especially for me by Ethan. He's such a doll.
On Saturday morning we got up and I taught a Balletone class (I am loving this format more and more every time I do it! Plus somebody once told me ballet is good for the wrinkles on your bootie. Anything to help Operation BHandT!). Then we went to Ethan's t-ball game. The little guys are actually playing now: we even had a chase from third to home with a slide in to score!! It was awesome. Ethan's still picking up the game. He plays outfield and the other day he tells me, "Mom, when I play baseball, sometimes the ants are going into the ground, and then sometimes they are coming out of the ground."  I reminded him it's more important during a baseball game to know where the ball is than what the ants are doing. I think he sorta got it.
Noah has morphed into a delightful two year old. His favorite and most often used word is "Nooooooooo!" in the whiniest voice imaginable. He says this while swatting at the air with his right hand. We've got the throwing of the food onto the floor under somewhat control. He has become very attached to his blankie, a symptom of what I as his working mother can only attest to separation anxiety. Every time he asks for it ("Bankie! Bankie!") it's like a stab to my guilty heart. The other day he actually did cry when I left him at child care and the pain I felt as I shut the door on his teary face was tortuous. I liked it better when he was interested in the play dough. So now we are trying to limit the blankie time, otherwise he is Linus from Charlie Brown: pulling the blankie everywhere behind him, inside, outside, he even wants it in the bathtub. I have to tell myself over and over, "He has not replaced you with the blankie. He has not replaced you with the blankie." But when the first thing he says when I pick him up from day care is "Bankie! Bankie!", his chubby little finger pointing to it in his cubbie,  it makes a mama wonder.