So this parenting thing is NO JOKE.
Life has fully unprepared me for life.  Parenting has fully unprepared me for parenting.



Maybe I am alone in this.  I have a feeling however, that I'm not.

Our dear baby boy has a personality better suited for being the firstborn.  A firstborn that is the center of the world, who can have a predictable schedule that isn't interrupted with the busy lives of his big sisters, who doesn't have to share, or wait, or not be the whole center of the world thing.

So that's fun.

If I was documenting a 365 project of him on Instagram it would have the hashtag #365daysofshanehatingtheuniverse

Not all the days, but at least once or one hundred dozen times a day, he hates the universe and all of the people who live in it.  Including me.

It usually occurs when he is given water instead of juice, or is stopped from running out into the street, or forced to be buckled in a shopping cart, or today for instance, given half of an In-n-out cheeseburger instead of the whole thing.

OH THE HUMANITY.

So as we muddle through our days together, as we learn patience, attempt to figure each other out, and by night, when I force him to lay against my shoulder in the dark quietness of his room, I pray that he is washed in joy and peace, and ask God to give me the grace and strength to be the mother he needs.

I need so much grace. So much strength.

It's the hardest thing in the world.
Sometimes I don't need answers, advice or solutions.
I just need someone to tell me that we will survive.
I am hanging on to that.

Besides I think, deep down, secretly, when he doesn't know I'm looking, he really, really, really likes me.
Did Drew have to shoot 999 images of him furiously trying to wriggle away from my arms?
For sure.  But for one frame, one split second, he nestled in, still and smiling.
She has no idea what a gift this picture is.  What encouragement it is to my weary heart.
I love this boy in all of his wildness and fury.
This little smile and snuggle will help me survive.

Survive we will.

 How did this happen?
This boy.  This giant boy that we have taken to calling The Beast.
This boy that has turned everything that we thought we knew about parenting upside down and inside out.
Intense. Determined.  Hungry.  Serious.  Passionate.  Happiest when he is outside.  Or in my arms.  Arms which are tired because he is GIANT.
Our latest walker (still waiting on that milestone.)  The only pacifier aficionado.  Did I mention he is giant?
Dramatic.
He has already had more haircuts than his sisters combined.  In fact he needs one again stat.

Best friends with Lucy.  No one in the world can get him to laugh or smile like she can.  She calls him her twin.  Their relationship is really special.  When she is with him, she is so caring, patient, and still.  He brings out the best in her. She brings out the best in him.

Each day we are trying to figure out this boy thing.  Or maybe this Shane thing.
Each night when I try to hold him quietly in the rocking chair, when nothing in him wants to be held, still, or quiet, I pray that God will equip me be the mother he needs me to be.  Then I pray that God will use his passion and determination for His purposes.

Most days I simply don't know what I am doing.  However, everything in me loves this wild boy, and day by day, little by little, I keep learning,  I keep loving, I keep failing, I keep trying.  I continue to lay down what I cannot do, and know that in my surrender, God comes in to fill in my shortcomings.

Happy year and a half smallest biggest one.
I'm glad you were born.

However, the nerve of me to try to put SOMEONE in it for even a second.
Why would he ever want to be contained when there are irresistible shutters to break??????

{One Bumbo for sale.  Will consider trading for fifty dozen baby gates.  Or shutter repair services.}

So, I was really awesome at getting my kids to sleep.  Like the mom you hate.  The mom who's kids sleep through the night at eight weeks.  The kids who still take naps in second grade.  The mom who is secretly all judgey of the other moms who have kids that don't sleep.  The mom who just thought- hello, you put them in their cribs and they sleep.  It's not rocket surgery.

BUT IT IS ROCKET SURGERY!!!

Because this boy turned everything upside down.  All of my tricks.  All of the tricks of everyone else in the universe.  Yes, everyone in the universe told me what to try.  I cannot believe I used to be THAT GIRL with THE ANSWER.  Ewwwwwwwww.

None of them worked.  I became the mom that the other secretly judgey moms judged.

(I totally deserved it.)

Until... he slept his very first FULL night in his crib.  On his ten month birthday.  TEN MONTHS.  Not ten weeks.  Yep.  Judge away.  I can take it.  If I can take ten months of horrible sleep, I can take a little judgement.

But you know what ten months does to you?  Makes you a little irrational.  Superstitious. Paranoid.  Loco.

These little moose jammies?  I am operating under the delusion that they are woven of magical sleeping glitter.  Because the first time he wore them, was the first time that he slept straight through.

So guess what he wore again last night?
Yep.  Hello moose.
Those moose worked their magic again.

Guess what is in the washing machine right this very moment?

Moose.

He might just wear them every single night until he moves out of the house.

(Thanks Kendra.  The moose are my fave.)

Last Mother's day I only knew pink.
Last Mother's day the thought of a baby boy was scary.
Last Mother's day our son was a mystery.

After my hardest pregnancy,
my hardest delivery,
my hardest recovery,
the hardest adjustment,

I am so very thankful for the blue that has entered our lives.

Baby boys are still a little bit scary, but they are pretty awesome.

It is so crazy to think that this time last year we were still a few months away from meeting him.  Now it is like he has always been a part of this sweet little family.

I like this Mother's day.

It's been a super crazy year.
I am so so so so tired.
I so do not have this four kids thing figured out.

We will figure it out. Somehow.
I will sleep.  Someday.

I love our little boy.
I am so glad that he is here.

The other night she was pleading with God to "give Mommy nineteen hours of sleep tonight."

So although nineteen hours probably will never happen (but given the opportunity, you better believe that I could probably come close), my sweet daughter knows that she has a God that listens and answers prayers.

Lucy knows that He is the God of infinitely more than we could ever dare to ask or hope.

I am one blessed mom to have this girl praying for me.
Who knows?  Maybe I will have my own Rip Van Winkle kind of night (and day...)

This girl who is obsessed with making dealzzzz on my ridiculously awesome retro iPhone handset, wearing one of her dad's Warby Parker home try-on glasses.  I am obsessed with her adorable Snugars headband.  Like obsessed to the point of giving her THE LOOK when she wears it to school.  THE LOOK that means you better come home with that on your head or WE WILL HAVE WORDS look.  You know that look don't you?  I thought so.

There is a whole lot of potty training going on in this joint.
Sigh... It is not my favorite.  At all.  I can hardly complain, considering that my mom did the majority of the hard work when the girls stayed with my parents this weekend.
But still I do not like it.  A lot a lot a lot.
I am paying her successes in candy corn.  It was candy corn pumpkins, but I was so stressed out with the whole deal that I ended up eating them.

But I want to leave you with a little tip that I wished that I knew two kids ago.
Buy more underpairs (what my kids call underwear, and I can't bear to correct them) than you could possibly imagine needing.
Because you do not get paid enough to wash accidents of the number two variety.
Not enough at all.
The trash can is your friend, my friends.
I am a advocate of frugality, hand-me-downs, and I am a fan of the earth.
But sometimes you just need to break your own rules.
Because seriously, you don't get paid enough.

Confession:

I am not normally that fun mom that loves messes or craziness in the kitchen.
I don't like PlayDoh.  Not a huge fan of finger paints.  Don't even get me started on the evil that is Moon Sand.

Baking alone while everyone sleeps is one of my favorite things.  Just my boyfriend, Dave Matthews and I.

But once in a while you need to let that all go.
You need to let your kids go through all of your flour.  All of your sugar.  All of your eggs.  Nearly all of your sprinkles.  Three batches of frosting.

Because that is what happy childhood memories are made of.

I am so thankful for Drew B.

She has talked me off of the "BOYS ARE SCARY" ledge one million times and it has been so fun being pregnant at the same time. I love that she is having a girl, because I love being the mama of girls.  I love that she knew that we needed a special girly day before little boy madness enters our pink and sparkly home.  I love that my little boy will be wearing her sweet boy's clothes.

She is the fun mom that makes messes with her son and sees the beauty in it.
Now I get it.
I so get it.


Thank you Drew for this day.  My girls won't stop talking about it.  I'm still finding sprinkles in crazy places and each time I do it makes me smile.

Visit Drew's blog to see the rest of the happy shoot.
Be sure to watch the slideshow because it is just happiness.
Janey- trying to sweep up the explosion of sprinkles?  It just doesn't get better.

Ya.
Four days.
I'm like 8% ready.

Throw in the fact that my sweet baby girl has a really high fever.  Super sad face.
So we are spending our days cozy on the couch, which honestly is just what I didn't know I needed.
She has four more days of being the baby.  Her fever is allowing me to baby her.

The nesting can wait.

I've got a cozy little one and a dvr full of Yo Gabba Gabba episodes that need my attention.