I'm Thankful

I love this time of year! Every sight, every smell, the tastes (except eggnog, eww) the spirit, the meaning. I especially love to hear and see more of the goodness and kindness in the world than the bad and the ugly. Put a big red bow on humanity and think the best of others during the holidays; right? I wish it lasted a little longer!

One of the traditions I grew up with started as a permanent marker and a table cloth and evolved into a family book with cute pages used to list our blessings and things we were grateful for. Every Thanksgiving as the turkey was cooking the book was passed around and blessing were listed. It was something my dad usually had wrangle out of us, especially when the majority of the turkey-eaters were teenagers. But with that piece of Thanksgiving packed away this year, I find myself habitually reflecting on my many blessings. This year my Thanksgiving page will be posted right here.

My little list of thanks:

Michael Alex: My thankful list could almost be completely summed up in 6 feet and a few inches. I love this man. His support and love and understanding and patience make my life more rich and complete. He fits into my world like he was made for it. He makes me better in every single way.

Michael Blake: What an incredible blessing it has been to become a mother. Guy completes our family and brings such a beautiful spirit into our home. His sweet coos and smiles melt my mamma heart and his snuggles couldn't be sweeter. I even love his pouts and alligator tears.

Dry shampoo, leggings and brow filler: Because heaven knows I need all of the above to function as a human lately. I'm convinced that each of these products make up our nation's backbone. Because, if it's no longer socially acceptable to wear stretchy-topped maternity pants (although I would argue it is, and I might forever) then leggings are my own personal Narnia (read: land of magic). And even though my aerosol can of dry shampoo instigates alligator tears of fright from Michael, I'll use it for days on end. It gives me a combined 2 more hours of sleep a week. At. Least. And let's be honest, do I need to explain the blessing of brow filler? I didn't think so.

Family Time: Sacred time that I can never get enough of. Time that is just as sweet when it's simple bedtime talks and baby tickles.

Sisters who are my best friends and preferred company. Always.

Parents who are brave and try new and scary and in their case, foreign things. Whose primary and maybe only motivation for every action is love.

True friends: There is something so safe in knowing you have loyal friends who love you and would do anything in the world at the drop of a hat. They are one in a million. I feel so incredibly blessed for the people we call friends.

Of course I'm also grateful for good food, a home that feels like heaven (most of the time!), the knowledge that I am a daughter of God, being a woman, the hair I have left, cuddles by the Christmas tree and all the fuzzy things (boots, socks, blankets, scarves, etc.).

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Desperate Disaster

Yesterday was one month of being a working mother. I cry a lot and I don't know if I will ever get adequate sleep again. I think the lack of sleep and the crying are somewhat related. Okay, they have everything to do with each other. I'm not a crier.

Last night I was pumping and I bumped the bottle, spilling all over the couch. I don't know if other moms feel this way, but that stuff is like gold and I'm spilling it on the couch!! I cried. Then I started feeling like I was doing everything wrong. I couldn't provide food for my baby, let alone feed it to him. I had only gotten 40 total minutes of baby time all day and I just knew he was going to forget who I am. I have some crazy hormone recovery going on and then everything gets jumbled again because breast feeding does not prevent menstruation, if you were wondering. HOW did that work for my mom?! On top of it all, my hair is falling out in gargantuan clumps. I think it's almost gone, and JR accidentally poisoned me with a beautiful necklace for my birthday. (He bought me a ruby and silver "M" initial to represent me, my Michaels, my new role as mommy... very thoughtful but I broke out in hives and have scratched my neck raw from wearing it twice. There is maybe nothing more aggravating than an itch).

Are you getting this? The thinning hair, the hives, the bags under my eyes and the shambled, desperate mother look I'm rocking these days? Get that image, because that's how I'm picturing myself lately. Desperate is really the most accurately descriptive word I can conjure. I'm feeling it, and I'm sure my look is screaming it.

And then, in every part of my life the universe is figuratively hitting me in the face with the message that I am a princess. A daughter of a King. Noooo. Are you serious? Can I be that later? I don't think this current disaster qualifies.

Mid-brush off I found this quote:

"He loves you not only for who you are this very day but also for the person of glory and light you have the potential and the desire to become." -President Uchtdorf 

He loves this current desperate disaster? Could He? I knew it was true. And I knew that love was so much bigger than I understood. He doesn't just love this version of me, He loves the confident, healthy, strong person I can become. The version where I'm rocking great hair, I've had plenty of sleep and I don't feel desperate. He loves the emotional disaster I am as a working mother and the version of me as a kind woman who understands her place and contributes to His work in a significant way.

So I'll let this eternal origin comfort me when I'm not exactly who I wish I was. I'll use it help me pull it together and make one step closer to the royalty I have the right to claim.

Hands

JR's 8-year old hands are traced on a wall in faded pencil. A few weeks ago he showed me the history and we took a picture of the difference. As I looked, I saw a lot more than just size that had changed in those hands. I knew the hands that I was familiar with had decades more service and hard work and comfort in them than the tiny 8-year old version. The scars and callouses that cover that man's hands now tell stories of love and loyalty, opportunity, tenderness and sacrifice. 

And then a few nights later, I stumbled upon two sleeping boys. My son clutched a hand that tenderly cradled his little frame. I thought of all the unspoken hope and promise symbolized by that tiny act. Father and son. 

You chose wisely, baby boy. Those strong hands will teach you to throw a ball, and build a tree house. You will learn all about respect and kindness by watching those hands. You will learn that God comes first and that family is more important that everything else. Those hands will teach you about sacrifice. Watch closely sweet boy. Those hands will teach you to be the man you are meant to be.

Christmas Comes Early This Year

Yesterday was the end of the pheasant hunt. You know what that means. My Christmas tree is up! Okay, so that's not really the annual date of the Sandoval home Christmas transformation. In reality, I'm usually not allowed to bust out our million boxes full of cheer and incredible smells until after Thanksgiving. But this year when two husbands decided to leave for close to 18 hours of pheasant hunting, Jessica and I got to work.

You wouldn't think that babies are a factor in Christmas decorating. But really, how can you think of much else when they are both grumpy and that means all the screams? We were determined to tackle the task at hand, so someone (not naming any names, but I wouldn't blame Jessica) came up with the idea...give the babies a strand of lights! It maybe wasn't our finest mommy moment. Mother-of-the-year badges will not be handed out anytime soon, but I, for one, am not ashamed. Both babies were closely supervised, although there may have been scattered moments of sucking on Christmas bulbs. Approved or not, it was a total hit. We strung lights all over their floor toys and they couldn't get enough. There's little else that is as perfect as chubby fingers reaching for magic.

With everything life has dished us over the past few months, I definitely felt cheated out of a summer. I wasn't about to let that happen with the holiday season too! So the lights are up on the house (a new addition this year, and it's beautiful. Thank you husband and lots of neighbors for 4 hours of Christmas lights in polar temperatures! I'm told they are staying up all year...) The tree is up (yet to be decorated, but really, getting all those scratchy branches just right is the worst part!), garland, stockings and Christmas tidings are popping out of every corner in the house and I couldn't be happier!

So, while some may say, "Don't cheat Thanksgiving!" this year, I'm grateful for Christmas trees!

Tummy Time and Duck Tails

Tummy time is hard. Michael Blake usually tries some form of planking when he's on his stomach and it tends to make him puke. Then his head gets too tired so his nose ends up in said puke. A few weeks ago I made a discovery that has benefited us both. Michael gets more enjoyable tummy time with minimal puke and Michael getting tummy time makes me feel like I'm not a complete failure of a mother. Enter the nursing pillow. I don't think I've ever used this little doughnut (yum, that sounds really good right now) for its actual purpose. So at our house it's the tummy-time pillow. 

Michael making faces on his doughnut. In other news, he has started sucking on his tongue and it's the most darling thing in the world. It just kills me.

Here I am thinking I'm the greatest. Apparently Michael had other adjectives going through his mind. Doesn't it kind of look like he just gave up on life? "This is way too hard, mom." 

Also, this little tinsy duck tail is a regular siting. He has rubbed most of the hair off, but the little mullet patch he has managed to hold on to makes the most adorable bed head.

It's Funny

There are moments when I just bust up laughing. And then I think "I wish people knew I was this funny!" And then I think "poor Michael is stuck with me. I'm actually half-baked, ludicrous, absurd. This really might not be as funny as I think it is." I am about to document a few moments that WERE just as funny in real life as they seemed in my head.

Pumpkin Butts are funny. Especially little baby pumpkin butts clenched up real tight. This, for the record, is also the moment that JR decided I had been staying home for too long. I needed to go back to work. 

I don't even know how to caption this. But it's funny. Seriously funny. This is the face he gives me after I snort at him. Can't say I blame him. I mean, when has snorting ever been an acceptable form of communication?

And now I will take a bow. I mean, you're welcome. 

Halloweenie

I asked JR if he ever thought his life would be babies and staying in on Halloween over raging costumes and The Howl. He said no. "But I also didn't think I would ever be this excited for my boy to get old enough to take Trick or Treating." Good answer, hun.

This year I searched the internets for hours trying to come up with the perfect family costume. I narrowed it down to bank robbers and a sack of cash (Michael being the loot of course) or a baby football and appropriate parental sports icons (read: football player and cheerleader). At our house the sports situation always wins. 

JR was a football player on practice day. This only happened because he doesn't have football pants/capris, whatever they're called and he wasn't going for my idea of squeezing into my spandex running pants. I still don't understand why it was such a big deal, but I didn't let him off the hook until he explained that football players have pad practice days and wear shorts. Really, he could've told me any variation of that scenario and I wouldn't know better. "Seriously? Football players throw watermelons instead of footballs in practice? I never knew..." 

I guess I have no room to complain about the lack of believe-ability in JR's costume. When I went to the store to get the top for my cheerleader outfit, I decided to forego the believable cheerleader option and go for a sweatshirt I would actually wear again. Comfort and frugality for the win!

Anyway, we pulled it off. A little rag tag, but it's our first family costume. We'll perfect this I'm sure.

 

Birth Days

I turned a whopping 3 decades old a few Sundays ago and it's got me reflecting for sure. Birthdays tend to get me thinking about the year gone by and any sort of growth I have managed. This year has been no exception.

I haven't been able to measure much in the way of physical growth for a few birthdays now. With the exception of my 26th birthday, because hello maybe I'm starting menopause hormones and ensuing weight gain. Since that milestone birthday (which ironically was my "golden birthday", 26 on the 26th) I have been more girthy for sure. Also since then I have not been able to eat chocolate all the things quite like I used to...(Well, this birthday reflection is also somewhat of an exception to measuring physical growth as the past 374 days have seen substantial El Bees. 40 of them in fact)

This past year my whole life has changed, and the birthday reflection has been very sweet. For starters, every single hormone in my body has been on high alert for most of the past 365 days. I have spent more time with health professionals this year than all past years combined. I have had one of the very worst days of my life in the past 12 months, and I also experienced one of the very best days of my life. I got a raise and a new certification at work. I ran a few more races. I did hard things. I had a lot of fun being pregnant with my sisters. I missed my mom. I built stronger relationships and loved more than I ever thought possible. I learned that I am strong enough to handle a lot more than I thought I could. I opened up. But every experience of my 29th year was trumped by the moment I became a mom.

When I met Michael for the first time, I saw perfection. With JR looking over my shoulder I had my whole world within a three-foot radius. I remember JR saying something about how we had a "real" family now. Well husband, let me tell you, I love our real family. I love the moments when I'm exhausted trying to get a crying baby to not be that for more than five minutes and you calmly take over and get him to sleep in less than three. I love team diaper changes, and trying all the tricks to get Michael to crack a smile. I love getting so excited when Michael tries something new, and late night talks when we have to smother our giggles because, sleeping baby. I love "real" family prayers and singing Tuck Tuck every night. Cause really, who could have imagined 30 would be so good?