Bittersweet Moments

It was a little over a year ago when that moving truck turned down our street, signaling Kurt & Olivia arrived for their permanent visit. I can remember in the beginning how the sound of the train kept them awake at night. Then they learned we have children who do not sleep and they adapted to the non-silence of the night. I admire their tolerance and patience. They settled in and their title quickly evolved from roommate to family. Last weekend it came time for us to close this wonderful chapter in our lives, as the home they have been building is now complete. We are excited for them to spread their Texas wings! 

BUT...

Lyla & Max have such a strong connection with each of them, so it was hard to say goodbye. Fourteen months is a long time for a little kid, especially for Max. He surely doesn't remember life without Kurt & Olivia in it.  I imagine this transition will have the similar effects of divorce on toddlers. They will adapt easily, but life will never be the same. I get emotional over the smallest change in any aspect of my life, so I knew I would struggle a little with this one. Change is hard. But change means growth and growth is good for everyone. 

They witnessed so many milestones with us----Max crawling, walking, progression & regression with sleep habits. They survived the "terrible two" year with Lyla. They experienced potty training in all its glory and disgust. They saw us at our best and at our worst. We appreciate them. And although they are a short ten minute drive away, we are going to miss having them under the same roof. 

These are a few [mostly kitchen] life hacks we learned from the Cox Family.

1. Heat tortillas on an open flame. There is no better way. I only struggle with this because it requires my full attention. No multi-tasking. 

2. Wrap above mentioned tortilla around a hot dog. It's the best. The original method of using a hot dog bun causes an overwhelming amount of breading. And I'm proud to announce we are now a bun-free home.

3. Softened butter is as good as gold. Prior to my enlightenment I viewed it as another item to clutter my kitchen. But now its deliciousness holds a special place in my heart, and my cupboard. 

4. Apple sauce is not a good substitute for oil. Let's be honest, healthy brownies that taste good do not exist. 

5. We are now dependent on a toaster...another kitchen gadget I've always avoided. The one we grew attached to left with Kurt & Olivia. I might finally break down and buy one though. Those frozen waffles are a quick and easy Lyla breakfast. 

6. A sharp potato peeler isn't a bad investment either. I had no idea my life was even lacking in that department. Olivia probably added a year to my life with that purchase. 

7. Max loves scrambled eggs. I think eggs are disgusting so it never even occurred to me that my own children might think otherwise. However, they are a nutritious treat and I'm grateful he was introduced to them. 

OH yeah, and last but not least, the thing we will miss the most is Olivia gazing lovingly into Kurt's eyes. She may hate me for this. 

Happy Weekend

It is cold here! There is something wrong with me. My brain thinks 100 degrees is going to melt me and 50 degrees is freezing. I think the problem here is I am spoiled. I have Idaho blood, and yet I am actually complaining about the dropping temperatures this week. I'm pretty sure the 16 year old version of me wore booty shorts and tank tops when it hit 50 degrees in Idaho. 

I miss Idaho. I miss watching the snow fall. Nothing beats a white Christmas. But I do not miss the cold. 

The cold weather matches our hellish week perfectly. Lyla & Max have been passing around the toddler tantrum hot potato all week. Really. I think they broke each others records in the dramatic performances department. They have been really pleasant prior to this week, so I am finding it difficult to determine any reasoning for their streak of frightening behavior. I think we were just due for some hard days. Those hard days test my patience and make me feel weak. I think the most challenging lesson for Lyla and Max right now is having to share my attention. It's difficult on all of us. Today I cleared everything productive from our calendar. We stayed home all day to focus on happy attitudes, myself included. Most tantrums are a result of a miscommunication and if I try really hard, I can usually stop them in their tracks.

I do see light at the end of the tunnel and that light is called FRIDAY. I'm looking forward to two full days to recharge our batteries and spend some quality time with Kirk. Here's to hoping we start Monday with smiles!

I considered posting photos of their screaming faces. But I would prefer to let those memories fade far far into the archive section of my brain. We had a few happy moments this week too. I'm going to choose to remember those instead. I made this play dough and infused it with lavender in hopes of calming their woeful spirits. Did it work? Here's a hint...NOPE. 

Generations of Crazy

I watched Lyla run upstairs and then back downstairs faster than she ever has before. It appeared she was on a very specific mission. She got back downstairs and frantically ran around the couches fixing up all the pillows, then quickly pushed in the stools around the bar. I was baffled and asked her what in the world she was doing. She looked directly at me and said "this is what mommies do." Her answer was quite fitting, considering her baby doll collection is currently her most treasured possession and being their mommy is her most important role.

However, I find it amusing that running around like a lunatic is how she perceives being a mommy. Obviously I am the mommy she was impersonating. She is very sweet with her babies, so I'll go ahead and take credit for that too. I think it would probably be a red flag if she was abusive or hateful towards them. Haha! She is my little shadow. I need to keep in mind more often that she is constantly studying my habits and mannerisms. As she grows, I watch those qualities manifest in her own character. Family traditions aren't the only things that get passed on through the generations.  It made me think about my own childhood and how that family dynamic has affected my adult life. I have to make a conscious effort to not obsess over certain preferences the same as my parents did. Especially since I have two toddlers! 

Disclaimer: My parents aren't really uptight as I'm about to make them sound. They are actually sensible people and my childhood was very loving and fulfilling. Continue. 

I can remember my mom being very particular about her bed. My parents bed was not a play area at any point in time, that I can remember. It was always evenly fluffed, with the sheets pulled tight and twelve [<-no exaggeration] pillows perfectly arranged. It looked like a sleeping place for royalty. If me or my brother were ever to so much as lean against the bed, we felt my mom's very unpleasant wrath. If you weren't going to sleep in it, you may as well not even risk looking at it because you might mess something up. I learned to appreciate a well made bed. Those qualities in my mom transferred to me as I remember shouting at my friends anytime they would use my bed as their personal relaxation area. I would cringe on the inside if someone ever propped their butt up against it. It was a test of true friendship to see who stuck around after getting a glimpse of my rage. Hmm, I'm doing a pretty good job of making me and my mother sound insane. BUT I gained some serious bed making skills from my mom. My brother has pretty impressive skills as well. And I've eased up on that obsession since becoming a mom myself. I still make my bed every day but it often turns into a playground for Lyla and Max. I embrace it now. It is only just a bed. However, I think I'm already rubbing off on Lyla just a little. Kirk was trying to score brownie points and made the bed on Sunday. It was a sweet gesture. Lyla let out a big sigh and said, "Oh look mom, dad did the pillows wrong." I nodded approvingly and gave her a giant hug. 

I can think of several silly habits my dad passed my direction too. I will share just one. He  built our house from the ground up with pretty much his own two hands, so I can understand why he would be a little protective over it. He surpassed the "little" part though. I remember hearing the garage door open, signaling my dad was home from work. I would rush all my friends into my room in order to create the illusion for my dad that we were not making a mess elsewhere. I would quickly empty the kitchen sink by filling the dishwasher and then dry the sink. [yes, I said dry the sink.] Drops of water in the sink were an appalling image for my dad. Sinks are not intended for moisture! Uhh. Yeah. Just go with it. As as I mentioned above about my mom, I preferred to avoid his unpleasant wrath as well. I created a scary image of my dad for my friends and once they actually got to know him, they expressed how silly they thought I was being. They saw my dad as an easy going, really funny dude. And he is! But he's a freak about his sink. He was also a freak about his black granite counter tops. He made us wear those cheap cotton gloves if we wanted to eat at the kitchen counter. Ahh, no. I'm joking about that last part. I could totally picture him doing that though. In retrospect, I wonder if he realistically thought that type of counter would remain immaculate with two kids living in the house. I think he could have saved himself a lot of grief by maybe choosing a different color. Hmm, I'll have to follow up with him on that one. Anyway, back in the day I found my dad's request for a constant spotless sink to be so annoying. But now I possess that desire. Thanks a lot dad. 

I can't decide if these kooky traits that exist in me are a blessing or a curse. I'm grateful for them to be honest, but I'm curious what kinds of traumatic memories I am creating for Lyla and Max.  I don't blame my parents though. It's just how life works. We all come from the same mold. My mom recalls a memory of her own mom [my gram] requiring her to vacuum herself out of the house to avoid destroying the precious vacuum lines on the carpet. That sounds extreme even for a fruitcake like myself...but I get it. I too can appreciate the beauty in fresh vacuum lines.

Perspective

I met a mom at the park this week. This happens all the time, so don't go thinking that was the highlight of my day or anything. Parks for moms are like bars for 21 year olds. You prowl around the playground looking for an unsuspecting mom, awaiting the perfect opportunity to start a conversation without looking too desperate. Then if you're lucky you get a phone number. Yep. That pretty much sums up park life and bar life. Haha! My type is usually the yoga pants and ponytail chick. I mean really, who wears heels to the park? Go home Barbie. 

Anyway, this park dialogue usually begins with the dazzling mom pick up line of "aww he/she is so cute. how old is he/she?" Every once in awhile I meet a mom and we discover our kids are both 17 months apart. For a moment time stands still as I know we are both thinking, "oh my gosh. did we just become best friends?" That usually fizzles quickly because there is way more to a friendship than sharing the date you birthed your child. And I generally find people to be crazy...in a bad way. The "quality over quantity" mentality is the way to roll. 

I'm an observant gal though. And based off my observations, I think most moms at the park crave some sort of companionship or friendship, pretty much any sliver of adult interaction! The life of a stay at home mom is a lonely world. But usually just as a connection is made, someone notices their child eating dirt and the new friend is lost in the midst of slides and swings and sandboxes. But I still find ways to appreciate that short five minute friendship, even if it means only sharing a horrifying potty training story or nap time struggle.

Okay. So back to my original train of thought. I met a mom today and after a few minutes of small talk we identified that our kids are the same ages AND both 17 months apart. Yes. That BFF light started flashing! Lol. We compared notes for a few minutes and laughed as we watched our kiddos play. Then she said something that lingered in my mind. She said, "most days I feel like I'm just surviving." I reflected on that remark for awhile and I disagree. I do feel her pain. There are some days I am certain I am living in an indefinite hell on earth. Toddlers are very emotional little creatures! The daily battles and conflicts are exhausting. 

But...I don't feel like I'm just surviving. I am thriving. I am living the life I always wanted. In fact, it's better than I imagined. Nothing good in life comes easy and I don't think that's something you learn until you become an adult, which is why being an adult seems so glamorous when you're a kid. I have bad days just like everyone else. Days when my attitude is plain poopy despite all my efforts to make it otherwise. And on those days I especially appreciate Kirk. He has a way of putting things in perspective without minimizing my feelings. After a long day, I will typically cry and complain to him about all my daily dilemmas. Then he responds by asking, "Kaili, are our kids hungry?" No. "Are they sick?" No. "Are they loved?" Yes. "Do they have a roof over their head?" Well, yes. 

I wish I could go back to the conversation with that mom today when she told me she was just surviving. I would like to remind her that although it is most definitely chaotic, it's all worth it. Not because I don't think she already knows it. Of course she knows how rewarding motherhood is. Of course she knows it's worth it. But sometimes our perspective gets cloudy. I think we all need a reminder at times from someone who can shine a little light on our cloud and identify with our hardship. I think in that moment, I was meant to be her source of comfort. 

Life is challenging. Yes. But it's always a humbling feeling when I'm reminded that I am not experiencing any real world issues. I am a fortunate being. 

Halloween Recap

I promised some Halloween photos and I know my grandma has been patiently waiting. Charli hosted a really fun Halloween party at her house. I would like to tell this story through pictures. 

I love this photo because it captures how much Lyla looks up to her cousin Hali. Hali was Elsa for Halloween. I am surprised Lyla didn't request this costume, but also so grateful because we play Elsa pretty much every day.

This is Lyla (pre)Scary Fairy Ballerina. I think it's cool she wanted to be a little scary for Halloween, but I think she looks like pure perfection in this picture.

Max the Dinosaur. His sound effects were awesome. And I love that he is carrying TWO candy buckets. He's a prepared little boy.

I realize Lyla's scary make up made her look like a raccoon. But she thought it was really awesome. And the first make up test run made her look like a mime, which actually inspired my costume. I never claimed myself to be a make up artist.

The Mime. The Dino. The Scary Fairy Ballerina.

Kirk is really disturbed that I didn't smile in any picture that evening. I keep reminding him that I was a mime. Mimes don't smile. DURR! I am disturbed that he didn't dress up!

The Scary Fairy Ballerina in all her trick or treating glory. She was in the zone. Some people got to witness this totally bizarre laugh that came from Lyla as she strolled down the street. I can't even describe it. It was a hyena type squeal combined with a high pitched laugh. It was shocking and I loved it.  

Max ditched the dinosaur helmet thing immediately. That's okay. His little dino tail wagging made up for the lack of head gear. He was uneasy about the trick or treating experience in the beginning. However, he gained some courage once he realized his bucket was filling up with candy.