Dad, you may want to skip this one.

I have a two year old. And an almost one year old. And aside from the lack of sleep (thank you teething!), this means that, for the most part, whenever I go out in public, my clothes are a bit stretched due to 4 little hands grabbing and pulling, my hair is a bit frazzled from those same 4 hands yanking and tearing (also, if I am being honest, from sleep, because usually the first time I catch a glimpse of myself in the morning is in the reflection off of a freezer door at the grocery store... which usually has me immediately smoothing down the wildness that is happening, sometimes resorting to my own spit to nail down some of the more stubborn parts... ya... luxurious). Also, I usually don't mind at all that my clothes are being stretched because for the most part, they are pajamas... and Paul's shirts. Which even that sometimes has me doing a double-take as I walk past the freezer door when I glance the sayings on Paul's shirts, which are usually along the lines of "BEER" and "SMARTASS UNIVERSITY." I really should start screening his t-shirt drawer. Because I feel pretty classy when I realize I have Alfalfa hair and a shirt that has some vague references to some alcoholic beverage, all the while pushing my two lovely little darlings around in the cart, both of whom are blowing very wet raspberries and laughing hysterically at the spit that is hitting mommy in the face.

So, you have me, chubby because of stubborn baby weight... or my lack of enthusiasm when it comes to working out, I haven't decided which to blame this week... with my scraggly hair and my frumpy kind-of-inappropriate t-shirts and my man-sweats and flip-flops. Now put that person in front of a rack of frilly, pretty, and mightily initimidating lingerie. What is that? Irony? A cruel sense of humor? Wishful thinking? Who knows. All I know is that those ten minutes of my life were the most flustered and red-faced in my life. I don't do lingerie. I do sweatpants and boxers and tank tops and hand-me-down t-shirts... which I then proceed to wear in public. Every day. But I haven't seen my husband in almost four months. And we have two small children. So I don't even see him that much while he's home. So I decided to do something nice... nice? Not nice. Naughty. HA. Sorry, I just cracked up typing that word. That goes to show just how unprepared I was for this experience. Because I giggle at inappropriate things still. (Also, I'm giggling because I am fairly certain that my father did not heed the advice in the title of this post... and now he's paying for it!)

But really. I went into the store and stood in front of the rack of lacey crazy skimpy things that I guess could qualify as clothing if you really stretched the definition. I stood there. And I stood there. Literally not moving anything but my head, as I looked up and down the racks. I am pretty sure I had beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. A woman came and asked if I needed help, and I turned my head and mumbled something about lingerie and needing some and not knowing what in the world those straps were for. From the combination of my frumpy clothes and crazy hair, I think I overwhelmed her, so she rattled off all the different kinds of lingerie that were ever made ever in the history of lingerie and then yelled over her shoulder as she beelined towards the back employee door that if I needed anything else to just ask. I turned my head back to the rows and rows of straps (because, well, that's pretty much all they were) and began choosing a few of the more sensible ones that I could wrap my head around. As I pulled one off of the bar, about 6 other ones came with it, all of their straps and clips and who-knows-what-else's intertwined and stuck together. I resembled some type of bumbling cartoon character as I tried to shove them all back on their respective hangars without drawing too much attention, which is hard to do when you have a Little-Bo-Peep looking thing that's somehow gotten snagged on the strap of your purse. At that point, my face was red and my palms were sweaty so I just grabbed one and headed for the cash register.

I don't do lingerie.

So now when Paul gets home, I get to say something to the effect of "Sure you had to go to AFFRRIICCCAAA and work SEVVEEENNN DDAAAYYYSS AA WEEEEEKKKK for FOOOUUURRR MOOONNTTTHHSSS STRRAAAIIGGHHHTTT, yada yada yada. But LOOK what IIIII had to do." The scale is so tipped, is it not?

Little Steps.

The sixteenth of this month will mark the One Month Till Paul Is Home Day. I am incredibly excited for that, and was actually going to wait until then to post something on here, but I've had such an AWFUL last few days, that I was inspired to come on here and tell you how great things have been going. Make sense?

We really have had a wonderful few weeks here. Things have finally fell into the groove that I had been waiting for for two months. We each fell into rhythm with one another, and life was flowing smoothly. There were fits, and tears, and full-out tantrums, but life was flowing smoothly. Life IS flowing smoothly. It's been a joy to be here, with the sun out and the snow gone and breeze warm. I hit a wall last night, yes, and we had an incredibly pathetic and sad scene playing itself out on the couch (picture me crying with my head in my hands, while the children each cry as they try and fight for space in my lap). But I have a babysitter tonight, and things are looking up again. I really can't complain.

Eli is crawling now, which adds a whole other element to my day. It had gotten to a point where doors in the hallways and cupboards in the kitchen no longer needed to be bolted shut because Alex had just gotten accustomed to not getting into much (although, when she gets tired, you better bolt everything down... because she just goes from one thing to another until you put her to bed). But now, it's back to closed doors and child-locked cupboards. Eli gets into everything, but it's so fun. I was worried about him getting mobile, but it's not been too hard. Alex is such a great big sister (and I say that in all seriousness...)... she keeps an eye out for him. Gets him toys he's trying to get to. Comforts him with little pats on the head and "It okkkaaaayyyy"'s when he gets frustrated. She shares her toys, he shares them back. They share food (which has me restricting all SORTS of snacks right now. Nothing is given to Alex when she is on the move unless I want the baby eating it too). I really enjoy just sitting back and watching them interact. It makes my uterus hurt in big ways, wanting to expand my family as much as I can so I can see them love on each other like this.

I've also changed our diet. I was cringing at the foods I feeding myself and the kids for a while, but not doing much about it because... those foods that are bad for us? They are really easy. And Easy is so great right now. But after hearing some facts and seeing some shows and doing some research, I couldn't knowingly give my kids that type of food anymore. I went and stocked up on fresh and frozen veggies and meat, and for just over 2 weeks, we've not been through the drive-thru, and we've eaten very little processed foods.. and those that we have eaten, are usually organic and not so bad for you. It's been great. It's been both harder than I expected and easier than I expected in different aspects. It's hard not getting a quick lunch or dinner when I am exhausted. But it's nice to be able to sit back and know that what my kids are eating (or throwing, depending on the day) is good. And I've had so many leftovers recently, that I haven't needed the fallback of a quick meal. I've been freezing meals for the first time in my life. Making homemade salad dressings, homemade bread. It's been great. I think this is a change that is going to stick. I just hope Paul is ready for it when he gets home. :)