Thanks for the love!

Following Asher's birth, my family and I found ourselves picking up and continuing our routines in the setting of a children's hospital. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for us, we had been conditioned to the beeping monitors, rotating nurses, unfamiliar babies' cries and the noticeable shroud of concern that draped on the faces of the parents around us; we recognized it because we had it too. We weathered on.

This particular hospital held a special place in my heart for multiple reasons. The first being that this was the very same hospital that I stayed in following my diagnosis of Juvenile Diabetes at the age of 13. I was taken care of for a week by a staff of amazing nurses and somehow found excitement in walking the halls that were filled with artwork, bright colors, neon lights, and things meant to make me feel at home. This experience left such an impression that I vowed to work there one day. This hospital was also the same hospital that Benjamin and I took Leo to get his hernia surgery at 4 months old. We found ourselves there again after a respiratory infection got so bad that he started to turn blue. A few months after that, I was able to make good on my vow and I started working at the hospital. A week after being hired, I found out that I was pregnant with my second baby boy. The baby boy that would then be admitted to their NICU for his first month of life.

After a visit at the NICU, my mom had mentioned a neat piece of artwork that was hung in the cafeteria. It had little cutouts of people that were all jumbled together. It only seemed fitting that this hospital would have something that inspired my mom for the idea for Asher's artwork above his crib. I should mention that when I was pregnant with Leo I painted a picture for his room of various superheroes that his dad liked. Fast forward to now, and I still have yet to find any desire to invest any energy into painting at the moment. Even finger painting is off the list. Anyways, we had yet to finish converting Leo's old room into a room for Asher, so my mom decided to help with the creative ideas. 

We found ourselves sending out piles upon piles of wooden hearts and letters, asking friends and family to contribute their love and creativity. Every new heart helped to grow the excitement of the project (for those of you reading that still have their hearts or maybe you never got one and would like to contribute---you are more than welcome to! Just message me for my address to mail it back! We will figure out a way to incorporate them). After receiving much of them back, my dad bent a wine barrel ring into a heart and I arranged them to fit together. It came together beautifully. I decided that a mobile made of a painted twig and paper cranes would bring everything together---and it did. 

It calms the Mama Bear inside me that worries for the day that my son will be alienated or hurt due to how people perceive him; he will be able to come home and see how much people love and adore him with all their hearts (literally). I am so grateful for the love and time that people put into these. It reminds me that even in a world with so many scary things going on, love is still ever-present and all around us. 

He was acting like he didn't notice I was there until he flashed me this smile!

All from my Instagram! 

The Fragrance of Motherhood

The other day I took a shower. That's it. That's really all I need to say. Stay-at-home parents can appreciate just how much luck and fortune is crammed into that one sentence. I'm not a person with particularly bad hygiene (although I will admit that my personal hygiene standards have definitely taken a sharp decline since having children) but there are some days where I find myself trying to recall exactly how  long it's been since washing my nether regions.

As I sit here typing, there is a cloud of pungent baby-vomit odor drifting from both shoulders---quite honestly it's kind of a nice break from smelling my armpits. So I've got that going for me. There are some parents (and pre-parents) out there that have their noses wrinkled in disgust at my obvious failure as a mother and all I've got to say is this: more power to ya (and to 90% of pre-parents: just you wait). If you're the type of parent who has the house cleaned, laundry and dishes done, dinner cooked, kids still have all their limbs AND you managed to squeeze in a shower---let me administer a slow clap for you now. Unfortunately with much of my housework involving picking the same items up and putting them away over and over again due to my almost-two year old doing what two year olds do---I'm not one of these parents. My sanity is often on the brink of exploding into a cloud of forgotten Cheerios and shredded tissues---so my priorities tend to get a little jumbled. I find myself okay with a lot of things that pre-parent Brenna would have gag-vomited at. There's nothing like getting pissed on and justifying not changing your shirt immediately because "urine is sterile" that makes you realize that maybe your standards are not what they used to be.

My son Leo has decided that instead of blowing his nose into a tissue, he'd rather use the palm of his hand. Hell, the other day I was holding him and he leaned back to sneeze---right in my face. No panic ensued, no vitamin c was taken; this is just the new normal. So now I have a walking booger-handed, sneezing-in-your-face, occasional pinkeye-contraction risk that roams my house. Such is life.

Lately I've found that if I really want to "dress up" for the day, a shower and some concealer are now equivalent to going to a full service salon and having the works done. This standard is met rarely.

Benjamin on the other hand, takes two showers (sometimes three) a day. It's very hard for me to not become irrationally angry when he pops out of the bathroom all fresh and clean right after I have discovered a stale Cheez-it in my bra. I have to remind myself that his cleanliness is warranted due to his manual labor job outdoors and his higher chance of being seen and smelled by people other than family. This should be the part where I proceed to thank every family member that has welcomed the homeless lady known as Brenna into their household. Thank you for feeding her and ignoring the slight stench of urine and vomit that inevitably she no longer notices anymore.

Obviously there may be some over exaggerations (There's not---in order to save face at the next luncheon with my now horrified friends, I'm going to say there is) but more often than not I do find myself questioning my own standards of self-sanitation. From having a fart waft up to your face from an un-diapered baby butt to eating your kids leftover lunch that fell on the questionably dirty floor, the possibilities of pushing the sanitation boundaries are endless! I do look forward to the days where showers and concealer become the new normal in my life again. I predict this happening in the next 5 to 10 years. 

In the meantime, consider this an ongoing apology for when homeless Brenna makes her way to your dinner table. Remember, the last meal she probably ate was a stale Cheez-it and leftover juice in a sippy cup.

Hold hands out of fear of mom's stench, I'm sure.

Basic Math & Shapes Conundrum

Watching children's television shows comes with the territory of having children. Go figure. Never-ending are the incessant jingles and cheery voices coaxing your child to learn basic knowledge. Sometimes I find myself channel surfing for anything that has adults speaking---just to feel like I haven't been in a nuthouse all day. More often than not I will catch myself immersed in Leo's kid-friendly programming while he has wandered off in disinterest. I've found that there is nothing else that provides me with much-needed positive affirmation than a kids' show; especially on days where I've second guessed every parenting decision I've made. 

One day while feeding Asher, I found myself completely engulfed in an episode of a show called Umizoomi. This particular show teaches children basic math and shapes. Now if you've had the fortune of not watching children's TV for the past decade, you wouldn't know that many of the different shows will ask the viewer a question, wait for them to respond, and then praise them as the correct answer is displayed. That's right. Tests are now fun. 

So anyways, during this particular episode, the little blue dude was trying to build a cannon out of shapes. He asked what the first shape was and shows three shapes to choose from. In order to build this cannon, it's up to me to call out the correct answer. Okay---I can do this. So after he inquires about the name of the first shape, I confidently answer, "Half circle!" He then proceeds to praise my answer as the shape moves to the correct position and says, "Good job! That is a semi circle!" 

Much to my dismay, I was wrong. Even the cheering praise couldn't break my chagrin. I attributed my error to not giving enough of my undivided attention to Mr Blue Dude and really hunkered down for the next question. 

"Great kids, now let's finish the cannon! What is this shape?" I had my thinking cap on and boy did I know the answer! It was a parallelogram of course. Duh. "That's right kids! A trapezoid!" Damn it! My brain melted as I sat in utter disbelief. There was no way that I had lost that many brain cells since acquiring my prestigious title of College Drop Out.

I watched the blue dude create his cannon and destroy a roadblock allowing the happy bunch of characters to continue on their way to the next problem. I reveled in the moment that I would get my dignity back. This next question was going to free me from my idiocy and allow me to be able to stand up tall the next time Umizoomi came on in our household. My brow furrowed with concentration as the little dude came across some weird obstacle that he had to climb. It involved some type of magnetic-shape zip line gun. Whatever. Anyways, in order to zip his sassy know-it-all ass up this wall, I would have to call out the next shape. Easy peasy. The next shape was of course a moon shape---and that's definitely the official name of said aforementioned shape. Moon shape. "That's right kids! It's a crescent!" 

I quickly jammed my index finger on the power button of my remote control. I decided that the next time a children's show asked me to help solve their problem, I'll let them do it their damn selves! 

This guy called me mama today! Probably learned it from the little blue dude.