Color Me Wonderful

It's 5:52am and I'm laying in bed, covers draped over my body and a cup of coffee calling my name on the bedside table. Wyatt, sitting in the rocking chair at the foot of our bed, is lost in a world of Sunday morning cartoons, his feet dangling of the edge in his soft and warm pirate slippers.

Oh how I would rather close my heavy eyelids again and drift off, back to sleep. But alas, the morning beckons.

Although the street lamps are still burning, illuminating the light dusting of snow that fell over night, and the sky has yet to show any signs of life, I can already tell it's going to be a gray day, after all, most of the winter here is just that, one big gray and drab kind of day.

I have this picture tucked into the corner of one of the kitchen cabinets.

My eyes get lost in this sky from time to time. The blue is unreal, as if someone picked the brightest most vibrant blue crayon from the box and carefully colored every inch of sky, and then cranked the saturation dial up to 10 for my viewing pleasure.

On especially gray days I dream of that blue, that sweltering Mediterranean heat, and the clear as glass, warm as a bath, water that would envelop my feet on the beaches in Greece that summer. If I close my eyes hard enough and block out the cartoons and the snoring pile of dog at my feet, I am there. I can feel the sun burning down on my shoulders and the sound of everything and nothing, a million silent people bustling about, soaking in the beauty, the history, imprinting this moment in their minds. But my eyes, although they are begging to, can't stay shut for long, and I open them to my gray day, with my little splash of color sitting just past the foot of my bed.

A recent blog post I read, from an amazing writer, talked about finding the color in life. And some days lately I feel like I went to the box of crayons for the day only to find I had the monochrome collection. And every crayon was a subtly different shade of gray. Yet other days I open that box to find the neons, blaring so brightly that even when I shut the box, you can still see the color spilling out of the cracks where the lid folds in. And some wonderful days, it's the classics. The simple one row box of crayons boasting classic red, blue, green, yellow, and orange. I drink those days in. The perfect mix. Those days fuel me up just enough that I can draw from their leftover energy on days when I open the box to find those shades of gray.

But don't get me wrong. Even though some days I see the world through my slate colored glasses, the color is always there.

My boys, in new handmade by Mama, pirate pajamas ; my ruggedly handsome, I'll open that jar for you type of person, husband ; My parents, who judging by how they play with Wyatt, never fully grew up; my cup of coffee in my favorite cobalt, blue as the Greece sky, coffee mug.. that is the color in my days. It's always there. I just have to remind myself to dip my brush back in the water, and then mix in my rainbow.

And now my littlest splash of color is starting to stir in his bassinet, pushed as close to my side of the bed as possible. His rosy cheeks ready to be kissed ever so softly and his eyes, that same bright and luminous blue, ready to shine their color on the world and blaze up this gray kind of day.

Lessons in Life

It's difficult not to feel every emotion your child experiences, right along with them. When they hurt, and their heart aches, mine aches for them. When their frustration takes over and erupts like a volcano spilling its lava in every direction, I feel the heat along with him. And today Wyatt learned one of life's lessons, that life, isn't always fair. I wish it could be for his sake. That there would always be plenty to go around, so that I didn't have to explain to him through his tears and sobs why.

Today, like every Tuesday, we went to the playgroup. We had talked about it the night before at bedtime, and it was one of the first things out of his mouth this morning when he woke up, to him it is over the top fun. It's an open gym type of playgroup at a local gymnastics place that is sort of come one, come all style. We were running a few minutes behind because Ben was taking a nap, and I told Wyatt as soon as Ben wakes up we would be out the door. We pulled up about 15 minutes after the open gym had started. I shoved cups of water and diapers into my purse, slid Ben into the Moby wrap, and unbuckled one full of energy little boy. He held my hand across the parking lot saying "run run run Mama, PLAY!" I love seeing just how excited he gets to come run and play and hop and bounce.

We opened the front door and the noise of happy little toddlers playing flooded our ears. We went to sign Wyatt in, when the lady told us "I'm sorry playtime is at capacity today, you'll have to come back another day." My heart sunk. I looked down at Wyatt who was already trying to take his shoes and coat off. I knelt down, feeling like someone had just pulled the floor out from under me, and quietly told him that we couldn't play today. Well to a two year old who can clearly see 20 or so other kids already playing, it is impossible to explain that they are full and we have to leave. He cried big crocodile tears, and begged me "please, please, play, please!!" I hurt. I was sad, and a little angry, and had to swallow hard as I gathered up my sobbing Wyatt and took him to the car.

I tried to explain to him that it wasn't his fault, but he just looked at me, tears streaming down his face and repeated, "please play." I couldn't help but feel every ounce of sadness and frustration that he was feeling. My eyes welled up with tears. I tried to hold his hand, but he was too busy craning his neck around, trying to see the gym and pointing as we drove out of the parking lot. I felt crushed. I felt like I had let him down.

I don't know how I am going to handle the future break-ups, and didn't make the team type of scenarios. How is it possible to see your child hurt and hold back and not be the Mom who makes a fool of herself trying to talk the coach into allowing one more player. How do I let them learn that life isn't always fair.

Sometimes I wish I could just keep them in my arms. Keep their little hands entwined safe in mine. But alas, that is life. And with it comes many many happy joyous, smile from ear to ear times. But with that is also the let downs, the tears, and the oh so not fair.

We will try again next time, because that's another life lesson, to get back on that horse and try, try again.

Because after all, who wants to miss this:

On Finding Our Groove

Nights and days, days and nights, that's the cycle we live on around here. Justin works 7 days a month, and 7 nights a month, leaving us 14 wonderful days with him to ourselves. Because of how his nights and days rotate, I always find myself asking him, nights or days? And I used to dread those nights. Because it meant almost 15 hours of him away from the house, followed by a whole day of sleeping, and two hours of just getting ready to leave again. These are my single parent days. And I used to dread their arrival, but we've found a little groove, my boys and I. One where our feet fit comfortably and we can keep on keeping on.

There's something unexplainably (although I'll try) special about nights when Justin is working. The boys are mine. I don't have to share their laughs and smiles, they are mine all mine. And while Wyatt splashes away in his bubbly bath water, I can hold my little Ben and just take him all in. And when Ben looks at you with his little bobbly head and his luminous blue eyes, they pierce into you. Seer into your soul just ever so slightly, and then the corners of his mouth start to turn up and before you know it his whole face is in on this smile, grinning from ear to ear. And call me selfish, but sometimes I don't want to share that smile, I want it all to myself. I want all the credit for those ear to ear grins, and the high pitched rich sound of laughter from Wyatt's mouth as I tickle his fresh from the bath body. And no matter how loud the boys are those nights, the house seems blissfully calm and strangely still. Like walking out after a thunderstorm to find the sky still dark and gray but no wind, no rain, just silence.

It's not always easy having Justin gone so many hours out of the day. No, there are times when I want to scream at the top of my lungs, or just collapse into my corner of the couch and pull a velvety soft blanket over my tired legs. There are times when the minutes until bedtime seem to stretch into days, and no one wants to listen, or to put clothes on, or pick up toys, not even me. But for every pull your hair out, sob into your hands, scream into the cold night air type of day, there are ten more these-are-what-memories-are-made-of type of days to somehow, like a dusty chalkboard eraser, erase those bad days away, and start you off with a fresh clean slate.

And so here I sit on this stay under the covers type of Sunday, Justin away at work. One boy leaning into my sweatshirt covered shoulder on the couch next to me. The other trying his darnedest not to fall asleep in his swing across the room from us. The moon still hanging in the sky outside my window, a thin veil of wispy clouds falling across it's face. And when the moon is still out at 10am, I think that gives you a pretty good excuse to have a lazy day. After all, Friday and Saturday we burned the candle at both ends trying to make the most of Justin's days off. We had little cousins spend the night which involved large brightly colored puzzles pieces scattered across the living room floor and eager little hands reaching for just the right piece. And then there were craft fairs, pumpkin carving and music classes, and riding the spooky train dressed up like an astronaut (Wyatt, not me), and visiting Nana, and playing in the snow, and then crashing into bed, deflated like someone just pulled the stopper out and all of your air went whooshing out the back. Curling into the pillow and pulling warm blankets up under our chin. That's the kind of Saturday I can get behind. One that has definitely earned us the right to sit around in our pajamas and slippered feet.

This weekend also brought me a 4 month old! I have asked myself so many times, but for some reason I never get an answer, where does the time go!? He's rolling and laughing and smiling and coo-ing and awh-ing and being oh so can't believe this little boy is mine cute.





Life...you have been good to me lately.

A Brick of Cheese

It's funny how life swoops in and keeps pushing you forward with its constant little jab in your back, and before you know it, another week has passed.

I'm in slight denial about October being half over, didn't it just begin? But the snow on the ground rings loud and clear, that yep, winter is here.

October in my lovely little town, is not the time of winter that screams winter wonderland. October is the awkward early teen years in the life of winter. It is transition, dead leaves still cling to the tree branches, and the thin layer of snow mixes in with the dirt, making for a palette of ugliness. As ugly as this time of year is, there is something wildly magical about the first snow. Somehow it transforms not only the land, but the spirit. It makes you yearn for a warm fire and a cup of hot apple cider to sip. It makes a little boy so eager to get out, in a snowsuit that is just a little too short, to build snowmen and to make train tracks through the front yard by shuffling his feet through the fine powder.

But one thing about October that makes me happy to celebrate its arrival? It means that holidays are just around the corner. It means pumpkin bread and decorations.

It means dressing up, then dressing a turkey, then dressing packages with ribbon. And although Justin and I are still debating about what to be for Halloween, I can not wait.

Bricks in the Bed

Although I do love a little body curled up next to me in our giant king size bed. It has its drawbacks which lately have come in the form of a sore neck and back from sleeping so stiffly. And for Wyatt, a perk of coming into our bed in the middle of the night, means more freedom in the morning. Usually he will wake me up before he decides to descend from the bed and take on the day. But this morning, he had different plans, and an early morning craving it seems.

I had Ben curled up in the crook of my arm, and Justin had long since left for work, when Wyatt's head popped up next to my bed. "Mama brrrrr" he said, and through my bleary half asleep eyes I looked at him standing there, then the clock, which read 6:24am, then told Wyatt that if he was cold to climb back in bed and I would cover him up, and so he did. I drifted back to dreamland, Wyatt's head resting on the pillow next to mine.

A short while later Wyatt woke me again. So I figured it was time to drag ourselves out of the nice warm bed with the cozy flannel sheets and go start the coffee pot. I pushed at the covers with my feet and my toes touched something cold. I quickly pulled them back, and raised my eyebrows towards Wyatt, wondering what foreign object was lurking underneath those covers of mine. I pulled back the blanket to find...a brick of cheese. Nicely nibbled all around. It seemed to be that Wyatt needed his 6am cheese fix today and that "Mama brrr" was more likely about the cheese he had just stolen from the refrigerator and not a reference to the room temperature. Looks like I will be adding cheese to my grocery list this week.

And here is a little sweet brother goodness to fill you up for the week!

I Just Couldn't Resist

The house is eerily quiet on this late Thursday night. Justin is away at work and my babies are sleeping.

As I sat on the couch, my fingers clicking on the keyboard, the click click click of Ben's swing kept drawing my eyes that way. I couldn't help but notice how the light from the lamp cast the perfect glow across his perfect little baby skin. I knew I needed to move him into the bedroom, but first I decided to put my night's rest on the line, and capture my little sleeping Ben.

I laid him oh-so-gently on the couch and just melted into a puddle of mush when I saw how absolutely flawless and beautiful his sweet little cheeks looked on "film".

How could I resist taking a picture of this...

And just a few moments later, he gave me one of these..as in what the heck is going on...

But it was quickly followed by one of these...

And then, just as quick as he was awake, his eyes closed, and he drifted back off to dreamland.

Oh LOVE, thank you for filling my cup up again tonight, you gave me more then my helping, and my cup is overflowing in every direction...but this girl isn't complaining.