getting out of the house

In the world of parenting, there are good days and there are... difficult days. Today has been a good day, and I'd like to record it so that on one of the other types of days I can look back and remember that this is possible.

So getting out of the house with two little beings can be challenging. Getting out of the house on time in order to be somewhere specific is extra challenging. Today I did that, and I was early. Yes, early. We were early. Ok, so maybe by two minutes, but early! We had our MOPS meeting (mother of preschoolers) today.

I started my morning by getting ready while my wonderful hubby did his morning daddy duty. He gets both kids up, dresses them and feeds Levi his breakfast. Yes, I am very fortunate. By 8:15 a.m. I am downstairs and daddy goes to work.

*Warning, this post will now contain parent topics which will include nursing and diapering. Since this is considered valid dinner conversation at my stage of life, it doesn't bother me.*

Levi is finished with breakfast, Wendy is looking at me with hungry eyes. I check my diaper bag for supplies and split my bag so that Levi has his bag for his classroom and I have mine for me and Wendy. By 8:30 I am nursing her and by 8:35 we are done. For some reason today, Levi very pleasantly just hangs out by my feet while I nurse. He is amused by my open toed shoes and tickling my toes as I move them around. So far so good, Levi is amused by very little this morning. Even when he asks to watch Little Einsteins on TV and I say we don't have time, he accepts the explanation and doesn't whine. Yay!

I tell Levi I am going upstairs to change Wendy. (Sorry daddy, but the backwards onesie isn't going to cut it today. Hah. He usually gets it right, but he is intimidated by girl clothes.) Levi says OK, and I change Wendy.

When I'm finished (8:40), Levi calls upstairs "I poooooop! Change me. Hallway." Excellent. So I go downstairs, put Wendy on her playmat, and change Levi. I run upstairs to dispose of the diaper, and go back downstairs. 8:45.

I get Levi's shoes on his feet, tell him that we can play his new music CD in mommy's big car (that's what we call the van) and he runs over to the door. He waits there because he knows only mommy and daddy open that door. (Same goes for basement door and door to back patio.)

Grab the baby off her playmat, put her in carseat, secure bib over straps (she is a bubbler... likes to get her shirts wet on the front). Pick up car seat, diaper bag, purse (I wear a small cross body purse with my stuff only so I have it easily accessible rather than stuffed in diaper bag), Levi's bag... go open the door for Levi. Put Wendy and gear in car. Show Levi where to put the CD in the car. Load him up. Drive to MOPS. Everyone is happy the whole way there! Fifteen minutes of silence. Well, mommy silence. Mommy silence is anytime there is no talking or crying. There can be radio and two different electronic toys making music at the same time, but mommies know how to not hear that. This mommy silence was enjoyed while Levi listened to his kid music from his music class.

We get to MOPS, unload Levi, unload stroller, unload Wendy in her carseat and unload stuff. If Levi was the type to run away from me in public places, he would have been unloaded last, but he's not, so I am able to keep him with me safely while I unload the rest of the stuff. Levi walks while I push the stroller, and we go into the church building. We walk to Levi's classroom, he starts to say "no" and whine. I don't want any crying, so I tell him if he cries he will make his friend Mr. Ben sad, and we don't want to make Mr. Ben sad, do we? Levi is very empathetic, so he decides to stop crying so that Mr. Ben won't be sad. (Mr. Ben is the classroom worker.) I drop Levi off and head to my MOPS meeting with Wendy.

Wendy naps peacefully while we have our meeting, waking up about 30 minutes in. I take her into my lap, play a little while, change her diaper and then nurse her at the back of the room where there are some comfy couches. She continues to play with me, then she starts breathing deeply like a sleepy little puppy. Soon she is shrinking down and falls asleep in my lap. At the end of the meeting, I transfer her back to her carseat (still sleeping!), stroll her down to pick up Levi, reload everyone and everything into the car, and go home. Again, silent ride with kiddie music. Ahh, bliss.

Levi wants to keep listening to his music, but we are home, so I offer to get the boombox from the basement so he can listen while I make lunch. He says yes, so I unload everyone and everything, go to the basement to get boombox, set him up with his music, and make lunch. Wendy wakes up. I take her out, set her down while I finish, change her diaper, get Levi into his high chair, bring Wendy with me. I eat half my soup and then nurse Wendy at the table. She finishes, I finish my soup, Levi finishes his lunch. From here we move onto naptime (Wendy hangs out on the floor of Levi's room, propped up in the boppy pillow while we read), and all is right with the world! I managed to get out of the house with two kids on time with no whining or crying! This is the trifecta... the triple crown... call it whatever you want, I call it a good day.

let's play house. you be the daddy and i'll be the mommy.

Almost all the time, I still feel like I'm pretending to be a grown up. Somehow I still feel like this, despite the fact that I've been with Andy for almost ten years now, married for seven, have two kids, have purchased two houses, two cars, become a stay-at-home mom... I still feel like we are pretending!

This past weekend was a four-day weekend for us. One particular moment that stood out to me...

We had piled both kids in the car -- excuse me, the minivan -- and were heading out to a baby store about 40 minutes away to look at double strollers. We stopped at Dunkin Donuts to get coffee. As we were winding down Algonkian Parkway, each sipping our coffees and reveling in the blissful silence of our car (because with kids, you never know when the silence could erupt, so you bathe in it whenever it comes around), discussing who knows what. I realized that probably 95% of what Andy and I talk about now is completely different than what we talked about when we met ten years ago. We are parents now. REAL parents! Parents who drink coffee on a Saturday morning while going to look at strollers!

In a couple years, I may not remember what we talked about or that we went to lunch afterwards or that we didn't buy a stroller that day. But I think for the rest of my life, I will remember what it felt like to hold that cup of grown-up, parent coffee, look to my left, and see my husband holding his grown-up, parent coffee. And to realize I wouldn't want to play house with anyone else but him.