Adventure is out there

Here are some fun facts about me. The last time I was on an airplane was about 1999, and I've never been east of Colorado. Perhaps I've been very sheltered in my life, but I like the western United States. I mean, I live in Utah and for the most part I love it here. It's beautiful, my family is here, my home is here, what more could a girl want? I've been to my nearby states, Colorado, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, even Wyoming. But I've never ventured east. Until now. In a few days I will not only be flying for the first time in 14 years, but I'll be flying across the country to Delaware for my best friends wedding. Yes, I know, this is not a big deal to most of you. This is huge for me though. I've been on an airplane 3 times total. First (and second) was a round trip flight to San Diego. Last was a one-way to Portland. All of which were simple non-stop flights. All of which occurred 14 years ago. I'm just a simple girl, a simple girl with a simple mind.. Okay, perhaps that's stretching it a bit, but I grew up in a smallish town and smallish towns are where I'm most comfortable. The whole bright lights, big city idea is a little on the terrifying side for me. 

Here are some more fun facts about me. I am what you could call, people claustrophobic. Lots of people, confined spaces... Kind of makes me panic to just think about it... I don't like to be touched by people I don't know and I have a pretty large comfort bubble that I don't like being invaded, even my kids can make me feel claustrophobic when they get up in my face with theirs for too long. I know, I know, I sound like a total nutcase. That's probably not far off the mark ;) 

Another first for me, I've never been away from my kids for this long. In fact, I haven't been by myself for this many days in a row since I met BJ. The longest my kids have gone without me is about 2 days. After day one Aubrey starts getting twitchy because she misses mom. Thank goodness for FaceTime. 

Anyway, that's all for now.  This nutcase is off to read the TSA traveling guidelines so I know what I can pack on my grand adventure. 

Love this...

Just came across another saying that sure hit close to home. In my heart, I'm pretty sure this hits the mark. Something to think about, anyway. 

How important is this lesson...

There are times when I have to stop and ask myself "how important is this lesson for the kids?" I have refused to clean my playroom for a while. An embarrassingly long time, but I think I have a good reason for it. See, my kids destroyed that room and I think they should have to clean it themselves. Not long ago I wrote a blog post about making my kids clean their own room. What would have taken me an hour, tops, took them about three hours to complete. It's true, I could have cleaned it for them, but what would they have learned by my doing so? That they can make ridiculous messes and I'll be there to clean it up for them. I don't want them to learn that. I don't want to helicopter parent either. They are 3 and 4-years-old. They are going to make messes. However, in my mind, they are less likely to do so when they know that a) they have to live in the mess they make, and b) they have to clean the mess they make.

When they did this... I CLEANED IT!!!

When they did it AGAIN.... I CLEANED IT

When they did this, I cleaned it... (This is behind my couch in the front room)

Ahh, much better... but they didn't learn a thing! How do I know? Because of this:

I had their playroom beautiful and organized... There are LABELS!!! 

And in a mere 30 minutes while I was downstairs making dinner... it went from THIS....

TO THIS!!!!!

DO YOU SEE THIS!!!

SERIOUSLY!

So... I was livid. They literally took EVERYTHING off the beautifully organized and labeled shelves and did that. Every single toy they own, which I admit is a ridiculous quantity, was taken OFF the shelves and thrown into a giant pile in the middle of the floor. I worked so hard in there, painstakingly organizing, labeling, I even built and installed the shelves... I worked my butt off in that stupid room and all of it was undone in a mere 30 minutes. My husband is going to kill me (metaphorically speaking) for admitting this publicly, but I have refused to clean the room ever since that day. Well, I've tried a few times but I don't make it very long before I get mad again so I have to walk away until I can get in the right place mentally. So far, I haven't found the right place and finally I asked myself why that might be. The answer is simple, it feels like an injustice for ME to be the one to clean that room. Yes, I know, that's just part of being a mom, but isn't teaching your children to clean up after themselves also part of being a mom?

I've had friends over who ask "why don't you just bag everything up and get rid of it?" That's a good question. Honestly, it's because I am convinced this is an important lesson for them to learn. I don't let them play anywhere else for the most part, I don't let them use the tv in the entertainment room to escape their mess. It is their mess and, by golly, they have to live in it or clean it up. I'm nothing if not stubborn. I just have to be patient with them. We have been making progress, very slow progress, but progress nonetheless. The problem here is that I'm working with children who are 3 & 4, which is to say, little people with tiny attention spans. I've tried a few different tactics. I was feeling especially hopeful after the success we had in their bedroom, but the playroom has been challenging for them as well. I tried setting a timer, telling them they got to play for the same length of time as they cleaned. It seemed like a fair deal to me, but to a 4-year-old 20 minutes is apparently an eternity. We didn't get very far. I tried enticement "when you get this room all cleaned, I will buy you the video game you want." Unfortunately, that wasn't enough motivation either. I may not have found the appropriate level of motivation, but I have a quality that is far more important. Determination. It might not make sense to you, that's okay, but I am stubborn and determined enough to teach them this lesson.

Every time they have to throw a toy away because they haven't taken good enough care of it, it's a lesson to them. Every time they ask for a friend to come over and I say no because the playroom is too messy for their friends to play in, it's a lesson for them. Every time they complain about having to clean up the mess, I simply ask "who made this mess?" When they reply "we did" I make sure it's a reminder of the consequences of making such a mess. Like I said, I could have had the room clean by now. I could do it all myself, but what would they learn if I did? A big, whopping NOTHING and I just can't have that.

How important is this lesson? If you ask me, it's very important.

The perfect photobomb

This will be a quick post. I have decided to share a video with you that I think is hilarious. Aubrey found a mirror of mine, one side is 5x magnified, the other normal. I've been trying for a while now to get video of her playing in the mirror because she is adorable. She spins it round and round saying "I'm small... I'm big... I'm small... I'm big..." Every time I catch her doing it and finally get video rolling, she stops though. So the other day, I was laying on my bed, Jayden was in the bathroom (which is attached to my bedroom via pocket door), and Aubrey brought the mirror over and started doing her routine. I hurried to catch it on video but Jayden, while sitting on the toilet, leans over and... Well, you'll see. Enjoy.

The rules of shopping with the little ones

I recently read an article on the Matt Walsh Blog (if you haven't read it yet, you should) that inspired me to write this. I could sympathize with the mother in the story. Taking kids to the store has always been one of my biggest parental fears, not because of anything my kids have done, but because of what I knew they could do. For the longest time, I wouldn't go to the store unless I had backup or a babysitter. I ordered everything I could online, (hooray for Amazon Mom & Amazon Subscribe & Save!!) If I had to get something locally, I would either go to the store after the kids were in bed or wait until my mom or my sister-in-law were in town to go with me. I even had Winder Farms delivering groceries for a couple of years. I was terrified to be "that mom" in the store, that mom with the screaming, out of control child. Since I knew better than to try to control the every whim and tantrum of an infant and young toddler, I controlled the circumstances of my shopping trips.

When my kids were old enough for me to effectively communicate with them, I started becoming more adventurous, but I also had a strategy. This is just what has worked for me and as a result, I've been lucky enough to avoid any knock-down-drag-out-what-is-wrong-with-that-kid-look-at-that-horrible-mother experiences in a store. If I'm honest, whenever possible, I still take backup to the store with me. However, my village has been a lot more busy for the past couple of years and isn't available to provide backup very often. Hence, my strategy.

Step One: Before we leave the house, I lay down the rules and consequences of breaking said rules. I keep them simple but broad enough to cover almost everything. They usually consist of things like: No fits, no tantrums, no running off, stay in the cart or hold my hand at all times, do everything I say, when I say or we will leave the store and you will lose your iPads for the rest of the day. I have to make the consequences dire enough to get through to them.

Step Two: On the way to the store, we discuss the rules. I say them and the kids repeat the rules and consequences back to me. Just to make sure they really understand everything I've said.

Step Three: Before we get out of the car, each of them take turns telling me the rules and consequences.

Yes, this is ridiculously redundant and probably over the top. If I'm honest, sometimes, I skip steps one and two, but never step three. I always do step three. The only reason this strategy works for me is that I always follow through. No matter how hard it is, I always follow through. I've been doing this with the kids from the very beginning. Whether we were at a restaurant or the grocery store, if one of the kids started crying or throwing a tantrum, they were taken to the car. When I first started taking them out places, I always had backup, so when I needed to, I was able to have my backup take the little one out to the car while I hurried to finish shopping or check out.

Kids have amazing memories, and I followed through enough times that I only have to remind them of the consequences and they *usually* calm down. The same strategy works, for me, in counting to 3 when they are misbehaving. The thing is, I only lay down consequences I'm willing to follow through with. I wont even start counting if I'm not willing to follow through with whatever consequence I come up with to finish the "if I get to three, ____________" statement.

I know I've been blessed with two pretty great kids, especially considering they have a clueless mother. This is just one of the ways I've found to help make my life easier. All we can do is our best. Remember that. Just do your best, and don't worry about the other mom's in the world. Somehow we all think we know best, when really, we are all pretty clueless.

The Myth of the Stay-At-Home Mom

Before BJ and I got married we discussed the usual pre-marital topics, for example, we knew from the beginning that I would stay home with the kids when we eventually had them. My husband is a software engineer who has been in the business for about 15 years professionally. I worked in the claims department for a health insurance company. My income was such that most of what I made would just go to daycare if I continued to work after having kids. We agreed, and fully believed the best thing for our family would be for me to become a stay-at-home mom when the time was right. It just didn't make sense, to us, for me to work just to pay someone else to raise our kids. I brought home around $1200 a month at my highest rate of pay after taxes. The friends with whom I worked at the insurance company had their kids in the "in-house" daycare center the company offered. For babies, it was around $800 a month or more for daycare. So, I would have been working 40 hours a week to bring home an extra $400 most of which would go to fueling up my car to get to work, and strangers would be raising my child. We looked at the pros, and the cons, and in the end it just wasn't worth it to us.

This wasn't, and isn't, a judgment for moms who work. My mom always had a job when I was growing up, I stayed with my Grandma Perry, it was what I knew. However, my mom didn't pay for my daycare. Gram just took care of me because I was adorable or that's just who my Gram was, I can kid myself into believing it was the former, but I'm certain it was the latter. For BJ and I, the situation was different. All of our parents worked and were over a decade away from retirement, so grandma wasn't an option

In December of 2007, I quit my job to go to school and plan my wedding. I was getting married the following June and wanted to start working toward a career of my own. I didn't think we would be having kids any time soon, I was only 26 and I wanted to enjoy my husband for a few more years before jumping into the parent trap and I'd been told it would be incredibly difficult for me to have kids. The Universe, however, had something else in mind for me.

The day of my dress fitting, my wedding dress fitting, my bought and paid for, non-refundable, special order, wedding dress fitting, I decided to take a pregnancy test. BJ told me he had a dream that I was pregnant and he has a track record of eerily accurate dreams, I had been exhausted lately and thought "what the hell, I have one laying around, might as well take it." It came back positive. In a few hours, I was supposed to get my Maggie Sottero wedding gown fitted with my mom and my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I had a come-apart. A big one. I couldn't get my husband to answer his phone at work and I was pregnant. I took another test to be sure... Yep, still pregnant... Still couldn't get ahold of my damn husband. I was on MSN instant messenger begging him to call me as soon as possible, it was an emergency! After what felt like an eternity, BJ called me back and I told him. He was calm, happy, positive even. He rushed home from work and told me everything was going to be okay. A sentiment I didn't exactly believe when I was alone, but when he was there with me, somehow I believed it too. Of course I had to tell my mom, and his, asap. That was hardly the kind of news to throw at them at the fitting itself. I mean, I had to tell the seamstress to let the dress expand because it was going to need it. That was April 4, 2008. I was married June 6, 2008. They had to alter my dress twice more before the wedding because I got so big, so fast.

June 6, 2008

August 2008 (4 months to go)

November 13, 2008

November 28, 2008

I gave birth a few hours after this awful picture was taken to a sweet baby boy, Jayden Chandler.

My journey as a stay-at-home mom had begun. There are a lot of books telling you what to do, how to be, and my own experiences had given me an idea of the kind of person I thought I was supposed to be. The mental image I held of the stay-at-home mom, was essentially a selfless superhuman who somehow managed to do everything for everyone without complaint and with a giant smile on her face all the time. She nursed her baby, made her own baby food, had a spotless home, dinner on the table by 5 o'clock, never raised her voice or lost her temper, and felt completely and utterly fulfilled. In my mind, every time I needed a break from the baby, I was a failure. Every time I let the dishes stack up, I was a failure. Even though I had no idea how to cook, every meal I didn't make and have on the table by 5 made me a failure. I was always one of those secretly self-loathing types, but as time wore on it wasn't much of a secret anymore. Those who really knew me could tell. 

My poor husband wondered where his fun, goofy, free-spirited wife had gone. I wasn't much fun anymore. I lost my sense of humor, I lost my sense of self, and I tried to fit a square peg into a round hole. No matter how hard I tried, I just wasn't going to fit into the insane vision I had of a stay-at-home mom. The real me is far too flexible for the rigid square peg I tried to become. 

You could argue the case that I suffered from postpartum depression, it was suggested to me on more than one occasion, especially after Aubrey was born. Perhaps I did, goodness knows I felt pretty low for a really long time. How much was depression, and how much was an impossible ideal for myself, I cannot say. All I know is that I changed, a lot. Jayden was the first born grandchild on both sides of our family, and we were blessed with a village to help us as we learned how to be new parents. In the beginning, we had a lot of help, and a lot of company. I loved the company, I enjoyed the adult interaction and someone to actually talk to. BJ, bless his heart, put so much pressure on himself to be a good provider for our family. He was going through a very busy and stressful time at work so he was putting in a lot of hours. He worked himself ragged for us, and I felt like more of a failure because I wasn't living up to the wife I thought I was supposed to be. Without going into the gruesome details, it was a challenging time for us. 

BJ and I went away for our first anniversary when Jayden was about 6-months-old. A month or so after we returned, BJ had another damn dream. Just to appease him, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. That couldn't be right, I mean, it was jut a dream... So, I took another one... And another one... I had to be sure! Crap, I was pregnant, again. If I managed to make it all the way to my due date, my kids would barely be 15-months apart. Not long after I found out I was pregnant with our little Aubrey, BJ was laid off. He built an amazing network for his company, helped them move into their new building, and to say "Thank You" they decided to outsource their network support. He is brilliant and incredibly talented, so he was able to find a new job quickly.

My pregnancy with Aubrey was difficult, not only because BJ lost his job, but I was so sick throughout the whole pregnancy. I had a baby who was just starting to crawl and needed enormous amounts of my attention, and I spent a good portion of my time in the bathroom. I was even less able to fulfill my role as wife and mother. I had just enough energy to take care of my baby, but cooking and cleaning... I didn't have it in me. Which made me more of a failure in my mind. I was a stay-at-home mom. I was supposed to be able to handle pregnancy while raising another child. I was supposed to be able to keep my house clean and cook meals every day! There must be some fundamental defect in me. Women had been doing it for more than a millennia, I was supposed to be able to do it too! 

Jayden playing on my giant, pregnant belly

The day I hit "full-term" which was February 3, 2010, I went into labor. We went to the hospital that evening and a few hours after midnight, on February 4, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Aubrey McKenna.

Aubrey Mckenna 6lbs. 6oz

Me & Aubrey

Me, Jayden & Aubrey

So tiny..

The first day he actually acknowledged his sister existed

Jayden couldn't even walk yet, but I had a new baby to care for as well. For the first few weeks of her life, she was an absolute angel (most of the time). When Aubrey was a month old, she got colic. She continued to have colic for the next 10 months. She needed to be held ALL THE TIME. The only person who could hold her was me, and I had to hold her in a specific way. She seemed to cry, although cry feels far too mild a description for what she did, scream would be more appropriate, non-stop. She could break glass with her scream, (a trait she still has to this day). Somehow, I had to take care of my son who was barely considered a toddler, and I had to do it with a colicky baby in my arms at all times. 

If I thought I had it bad before, in terms of being a failure as a stay-at-home mom/housewife, oh that was nothing compared to now. I had to do everything while holding this child. You may read this and say "surely that's an exaggeration, surely she could have simply put the child down and let her cry it out" and to that I would tell you to ask anyone who was there back then. If we wanted peace in the house, I had to hold her. When Aubrey was about 3-months-old or so, I left BJ, Aubrey, and Jayden at my dad's so I could run to the store quickly with my mom. I figured it would be fine since my dad, step-mom, husband, and brothers were all there to help with the kids. I didn't make it 15-minutes before I started getting phone calls asking me to come back because Aubrey hadn't stopped screaming since I left. Everyone had tried holding her, feeding her, anything and everything they could think of, but nothing could calm her down. I made it back in about half an hour and she was still screaming when I returned. As soon as I held her in my special way (basically folded in half, legs by her head, held tight to my chest), she stopped crying. It wasn't that any of them did anything wrong, it was that for her, they couldn't do anything right. They weren't me. There were times even I couldn't soothe her or calm her down. Times when I had to hide in the farthest corner of the house with her to try to give BJ a chance to get some sleep so he could work the next day. 

I was sleep-deprived, frazzled, and undeniably depressed at this point. My house, and my ability to keep up with everything, had gone from bad to worse. I was pretty sure I was the world's worst stay-at-home mom. I looked at my friends on Facebook and saw how clean their homes were in pictures, saw how happy everyone was and I made a giant mistake. I compared myself to them. They say comparison is the thief of joy and I can attest to that. I became more and more withdrawn and negative. I was grumpy all the time, my temper was out of control, I was snapping and yelling at the kids, and my husband. The end result was a disaster for a house and a crazy person in control of my body. 

This craziness continued until recently, when I hit the proverbial rock bottom. I reached a point where I honestly felt like my kids, my husband, hell, the world would be a better place without me in it. I felt like I was such an epic failure in all things that I should just do the unthinkable. In my twisted mind, I truly believed I would be doing them a favor, that they deserved more than me and more than I could give. Somehow, I woke up and I thank God for that. I guess you could say I decided to live. I decided to change the way I look at things, one step at a time. In so doing, I have learned a few things. One of the biggest is acceptance of my personal best. To take things one day at a time, sometimes even one minute at a time. I can only do my best, which may or may not be less than your best, but that has to be okay with me. Another lesson I've already mentioned. Comparison is the thief of joy. 

Last, but not least, is the myth of the stay-at-home mom. It isn't a walk in the park to stay home with your kids. You don't necessarily have more time and sanity than a working mom. Each has their challenges. It is easy to think a stay-at-home mom should have a perfectly spotless home, it is easy to think they have more time on their hands than they know what to do with, but often that isn't the case or at least not with me. As a stay-at-home mom, it's easy to beat yourself up for everything. It is easy to think you should be doing more. It's easy to lose the Now.  

Most days, I'm lucky to get a shower, I'm lucky to go to the bathroom without my kids walking in and wondering what I'm doing. I'm lucky to get a minute to myself, and usually it means staying up most of the night to have one. By staying home, I lost my sense of self and it has taken me 5 years to start down the path of rediscovery. It has taken me 5 years to accept that I'm not less because I chose to stay at home, and even if I chose to remain a housewife for the rest of my life, it does not make me less. Staying at home to raise your children is both a sacrifice, and a blessing. If you focus on the blessing, instead of the sacrifice, it makes the experience a lot better. For some of us, like myself, who tend to learn everything the hard way, it takes hitting rock bottom to remember that.

The path to freedom...

I've never made it a secret that my house is a cluttered disaster. I have way too much stuff and nowhere to put it. Even if I had a place for everything, I still have too much stuff. My kids have grown out of clothes and they sit in bags in my crawl space, I bought toys on sale to give later and never gave them out, I bought and bought and have only succeeded in being a few boxes away from an episode of hoarders. When I look back at my decisions over the past few years I generally feel like I was an idiot. That's all there was to it. I thought I needed or wanted so many things, but really, I neither needed nor wanted them. They did nothing to make me happy, they didn't make my kids happier. Worse, I feel like I did them a disservice by getting so much crap. They never learned to value or respect their toys. Now I not only need to dig myself out of my own personal hole, but I have to reclaim my house. In essence, I have two giant chasms to climb out of.

The good news, as I see it, is that my kids are still young enough to be retrained if you will. It's not too late for them to learn the value of their possessions, to learn to respect their toys, and to begin taking care of the things they still get to keep. Goodness knows, I don't want them to continue down the path we are currently on. It makes me so angry when they destroy a toy or a book, when they color on the wall or basically act like destructive children. I know it's my own fault, which probably makes it worse. No one wants to actually admit that their kids failings are really their own. I need to teach them to do better, to be better. In order to do that, I need to do better. I need to be better.

I started this process recently, I took my first steps on the path to freedom. After my evening walk, I seem to have a lot more energy and I generally want to clean something. A few nights ago, I walked in the door around 10:45pm after my walk, (we are night owls around here) and I remembered I needed to change the sheets on my daughters bed. See, the night before, Aubrey wet the bed in the middle of the night. Being the awesome mother that I am, I took off her wet clothes, wiped her down with a towel, put on a pull-up, put a towel down on the wet spot, sent Aubrey back to bed and went right back to sleep myself... Like I said, I'm an awesome mom. Anyway, I decided to change the sheets on both beds. When I pulled up the mattress and saw the pile of crap under their beds, I made an executive decision. We were going to clean their room... And by "we" I mean "they" were going to clean their room and I was going to supervise. I moved Aubrey's bed out from the wall first, brought in a big white garbage bag and a big bag for toys. The instructions were simple. Garbage in the garbage bag, toys to in a toy bag to be put away later, and clothes in the hamper.

It is rather embarrassing to admit that I hadn't cleaned their room in a very long time, and it was ridiculous. There were bread crusts, bread sticks, half-eaten peanut butter sandwiches, crackers, water bottles, fruit-snack wrappers, the disgusting garbage list goes on. See, embarrassing, but I promised to be real, so there you have it. Then there were the toys, I mean honestly, it was crazy how much crap they fit under a toddler bed. I made them do it all. They were even excited about it! They had to pick up the garbage, clean up the toys, the only thing I did was provide new toy bags when the old ones filled up and vacuum when they made the floor clean enough to do so. We spent a little over an hour the first night cleaning their room, making it about midnight when we finished up. The kids were really proud of themselves, and I was really proud of them. The next day we did the other half of the room. Jayden wasn't quite as excited to do the rest of the room, in fact, when I told him it was time he replied with "you've got to be kidding me?" Hmm, I wonder where he heard that line! Regardless of his attitude, he cooperated with only a small reminder about losing his video games for the rest of the day if he didn't cooperate... It's amazing how well that works for motivating him! Aubrey just likes to be my helper most of the time, so motivating her is less of a struggle when phrased that way.

The room isn't spotless by any stretch, but it is much better than it was. More importantly, lessons were learned by myself and the kids. For the kids, they learned that they prefer to have a clean room, they learned food on the floor is gross and they haven't even asked if they could take their peanut butter sandwiches upstairs since that night. They learned that it really sucks when a toy they liked gets thrown away because its broken and it's broken because they didn't take care of it. They learned that momma isn't just going to do it for them. If I've taught them anything through my stubbornness in regards to their playroom and bedroom, it is that if they make the mess, they are going to clean it up or they have to suffer in their own filth. I learned that they are ready to have that responsibility. I learned they are perfectly capable of cleaning their own messes themselves with only a little guidance on my part. I learned a little more patience with them and to make cleaning their messes kind of fun.

Now I just need to apply those principles to the playroom. It is a disaster and has been for over a year now. I have refused to touch it since the day they destroyed it. If I'm honest, I've actually tried to clean up a little a few times but each time I only last a few minutes before I'm so angry I have to stop. I'm not very pleasant when my temper is unleashed. I don't like that personality trait in myself, I have quite a temper and controlling it seems to take a lot of work again. In my attempt to be better than I have been or to keep myself from behaving like an irrational tyrant, I shied away from trigger situations i.e., cleaning the playroom. Yes, I know the room is ridiculous. Yes, the mess makes me angry, but the kids made that mess and they will be the ones to clean it up. They are finally old enough to be able to do it with minimal assistance from me. I don't expect everyone to understand or agree with my approach, like I've said before, I have to do what works for me and so far this seems to do just that!

I've started my thousand mile journey to freedom and I'm finally making progress one step at a time.

Here are some pictures of BJ's birthday party at his parents house over the weekend. It was a great night.

Kids thought they could climb the mommy tree at BJ's birthday party

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Awe we like each other... And then there's the "special" brother Matt... 

It's the little things

It's the little things in life that make it worthwhile. I may complain about being a mom, but that is just because I feel woefully inadequate in the parenting and homemaking departments. The rest of the time I love being a mom, even an incompetent one. I love being with my kids all the time. I love the sound of their giggles, the smiles on their faces. I love our lazy days when we contentedly do nothing but watch movies or read stories. Today is one such lazy day and it has been amazing. Full of cuddles, tickles, loves and fun. 

The little things in each day, when you are paying attention to them, are what make life worth living. I'm grateful I've finally opened my eyes and started to notice the good more often than the bad. 

Adventures and meltdowns at the Hahn Ranch

Fun fact about me, I hate to be rushed. I don't do well when I feel like I'm being pushed to go at your pace, pushed to "go go go" because that's how you do things. I know I've always been this way to an extent, but after having kids it is especially difficult for me. My control-freak tendencies seem to have magnified ten-fold; feeling pressured and pushed just makes me anxious, grumpy, and if it gets too bad those ridiculous, uncontrollable water-works start up. 

We took the kids on their first camping trip this weekend with my in-laws. We weren't going to go, in fact it was the kids who changed our minds for us. While the kids helped Grandma Hahn bake a cake and muffins on Friday, and I wrote my last blog post, she mentioned that the muffins were for camping. That was the end of it. The kids were convinced we were going camping, even though they had no idea what "camping" was. There was no way out of it. We were going camping with the kids on Saturday.

That night, we didn't get home from their house until 12:30am, we were supposed to leave by 3pm on Saturday. This meant I only had a few hours to get everything ready for the trip, and I lean toward the "it's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it" school of thought whenever we go on a trip with the kids. I was able to push myself as much as was necessary without getting anxious or grumpy. I packed, organized, and loaded everything into the car. I felt great about what I was bringing, not too much, but enough to feel like we could handle whatever was thrown our way. We piled into the Trailblazer and away we went on our first family camping adventure.

My in-laws own a beautiful little piece of property near Wanship, in the Tollgate area past Park City, and that was our destination. I thought it was a good place for the kids first camping experience, especially since I wasn't sure how they would do. On the drive up, Jayden started telling his sister that we were going to the "creepy forest" causing her to start crying and exclaiming that she "didn't want to go camping anymore." After Jayden got scolded for being a butthead and Aubrey received some comforting reassurance from me that we were, in fact, not going to a creepy forest, she calmed down and was rather excited by the time we got there.

My brother-in-law, Matt, caught a tiny little frog while he was scouting a place to put our tent with BJ. They brought it over to show the kids. In typical Aubrey fashion, she screamed her banshee scream and climbed up my leg so I could save her from the terrifying animal. Jayden, on the other hand, thought it was cool. After seeing Jayden's reasonable reaction, Aubrey decided that the tiny frog was actually cute. We were off to a good start.

After some searching, BJ finally found a location he liked enough to set up the tent. I was very happy to see how simple the setup was for our tent. We were able to fit a full-sized air mattress and 2 kids cots in the tent comfortably. For my little family, it was just right.

Hahn Family Tent

Kids Cots inside the tent

We spent most of our time chatting, with a little exploring on the side. Nothing too far from the property though. 

Outdoor Common Room

Daddy & Aubrey

We had a great time Saturday night. I was able to use the solar-powered gadgets I purchased for our emergency prep kit, which was far more exciting for me than I should admit. The weather was perfect and we were able to see the stars. Star gazing is something I love, and I stood in the field staring up into the beautiful nights sky until I was tired enough for bed.   

Sunday was another fairly uneventful day, much the same as the day before. We stayed close to camp, explored a little around the property, I mostly just enjoyed the kids and the outdoors. Here are some more pictures from our adventure. 

Aubrey & Aimee

Jayden

Jayden & Aubrey

Cassy, Chris, & Jayden

Jayden with his Uncle Matt

Aubrey

Jayden needed the skin cut off his apples...

The boys putting the tent together.

My cute kids

Aubrey

Overall it was the perfect first camping trip for the kids. We had a lot of fun and I can't wait to take them camping again. Now that we have most of the gear we need to be able to go camping, I see a lot of family camping trips in our future. 

Monday morning, I wont lie, I had a meltdown. It comes down to the fun fact I told you about myself in the beginning of this post. I don't do well when I'm rushed. I know this about myself. I plan ahead. I give myself time to do things at a relaxed pace. I have 2 kids to watch and care for, usually while I'm trying to get things done. My sanity depends on going at my own pace. Monday morning, I was rushed and pushed into going someone else's pace. 

Immediately following breakfast it was "go go go" to get out of there. It was as if there was a fire and they were running for their lives. Everything was chaotic and rushed. It had rained hard the night before. There was mud everywhere and people were clearing out camp at breakneck speed. Before breakfast even began, I was calmly folding the blankets inside the tent, trying not to get mud on everything but still packing in an organized fashion. I was packing up camp, but I was going at a reasonable pace. I was going at my sanity-saving pace. The kids were allowed to help me, which is something they love to do, and I wasn't grumpy. 

Post breakfast apocalypse was the opposite of my sanity-saving pace. Everything was in disarray. Well, I should clarify, everything of ours was in disarray. The other pairs of adults were just fine, getting their stuff packed up and put away. It was so frustrating for me. I felt so rushed, so pressured, so chaotic. I reached the eff-it stage rather quickly and just gave up knowing there was no way I was going to be able to load up the car for the return trip in an organized fashion and keep it clean at the same time. Everyone just wanted out of there. I was so frustrated and upset that I spent the first 20-minutes of our drive home bawling to BJ. 

If I had known that we were planning on packing up the second we swallowed the last bite of breakfast, I would have prepared more the night before. I know myself, I know how I function. I know that I hate to be rushed. I plan ahead! I would have spent more time packing up all non-essentials for the night of sleep. I would start loading the car and organizing things. I know, I know, I sound like a complete and utter control freak. The thing is, I can only do my best, and that might not be the same as yours, but that is okay! I have to be true to myself. When I'm true to myself, I'm a better mom, a better wife, a happier person all around. 

We all know what works for us, we know the best, most efficient way for us to get things done. The beauty of it is that it's different for each of us, our "best" is subjective. It changes from day to day, person to person. Your best isn't better than mine, nor is mine better than yours. It just is. The only real expectation we should have of ourselves, is that we do our best day after day. Whatever that days best might be. 

Obviously, I'm going to have to find a solution going forward for situations like the one I just described. I will let you know if I come up with something. None of us like it when our crazy is showing! Goodness knows I don't.