Guilty as charged

Remember when I stayed at home and I marveled at how working parents have it so hard?  Yeah, we do.  Working outside of the home is fantastic.  My job is so much fun.  I meet new people every day and it is fueling my extroverted soul.  The kids bloody love their school.  They have Ice Cream Man Mondays, Tumble Bus Tuesdays, Water Wednesdays and God only knows what on Thursday and Friday.  So happy babies = happy parents.


However, this house is a shit-hole. Fast food is on the regular.  Worse yet, my blog is neglected.  Every time I take a picture, I have a rush of guilt come over me, reminding me that my blog hasn't been updated.  With every camera flash, I die a little inside.    


With that, I welcome you to a pictorial on the last 500 months of our lives.  Just know, silence is a good thing for us.  That means we're running around making messes and memories.  

We took medicine together.  

We horsed around.

We took required posed photos.

We saw the Easter Bunny.  (Easter post to follow)

 We went to Charleston and to celebrate Reagan and Lauren's birthday.  We partied, we played, and we left.  

The boys completed the Marine Corps Mud Run.  So proud of my Dad and Jimmy!

 

 

We went to swanky corporate events.

  

We played softball.  Lots of softball. 

 

We built and then thoroughly tested the new playhouse. 

 

  

 

  

We went to Ocean City.

Mommy always, always comes back.

Kids say the most wonderful things.  One time when leaving for a date-night, I told a distraught Ashton, "Mommy always, always comes back."  I didn't realize how much that meant to him and comforted him while I was gone until he started saying it himself.  He says it to us when we leave, actually telling us, "Mommy always, always, always comes back, right, Mommy?"  He gently grabs Reagan's checks as she whimpers and tells her, "It's ok, Reagan, Mommy and Daddy always, always come back."  

I'm so happy I went back to work.  My job is so vastly different from my former career, that I -- gasp -- look forward to going to work.  It has to be a combination of things; being ready for a change; challenging myself to be great at something new; and no longer being completely, totally, utterly burned out.  I didn't realize how much I hated my last job, and the person that it made me become, until I stayed home.  It's so different to work  for a company who supports their employees, provides incentives to succeed, and has opportunities for advancement.  I was brainwashed to think that my last job was so great, when in actuality it was torture.

I've been enlightened.  My negative experience at my former career was not just the culture of the organization, it was also me.  I allowed people to take advantage of my "disease to please."  I had no idea how to say "no, I don't have time to do that." And I never voiced how I really felt to my boss because I felt indebted to her and the organization.

I'm a new person this time around.  I'm confident and clear with what is important to me and I'm dedicated to working hard, but on my terms.  Ryan Homes makes it easy, though, because they're a huge company.

1. My hours are amazing: 10-6 three days per week and 11-6 two days per week.
2. I love the kids' "school."  When I was home, teaching the kids was laborious.  I tried, I really did, but I had to all but lasso Ashton to sit and listen (even for 1 minute) and Reagan does a fantastic job following his lead.
3. I'm enjoying learning new things at work and sharing my day with Jimmy each night.
4. The kids get more alone time with Jimmy.  Because our schedules crisscross, Jimmy has one day every week where he is alone with the kids all day, and I know the kids are loving being with him.
5. Money is sweet.  Even 10 cents helps, and Jimmy gets to sleep more now that I'm working.

Playing with the library boat.

Good help

You just can't find good help these days... or so I thought.

I'm not going to tell you her name.
I'm not going to tell you her number.
I'm not going to tell you her price.
Go find your own person.  She's mine. Alllllllllll mine.

Because I work weekends, finding child heaven for Ashton and Reagan wasn't enough.  We had to find someone who was great with kids, available, and reliable to be our extra set of hands for five full days and five pick up days a month.  Somehow, among all of the murderous weirdos, we found our Nanny McPhee.

She's a ball of energy, a smile from ear to ear, creative, attentive, and wonderful.  She's the kind of person who makes being a parent look like a breeze.  Someone who should have kids and lots of 'em.  She has two children, one who is almost 4 and one who is almost 1, so their ages work well with our two.  Nanny McPhee's husband is supportive and understanding, which is also rare, and is usually with her when she has all four kids. She treats our kids like her own, and since she has a natural gift for parenting, our kids are in love with her.  They do crafts, go to the park, go swimming, and much, much more. 

Again, you can't have her.

I'll slash your tires and leave flaming diapers on your doorstep, so just don't try, ok?

Anyway...

When I come home and the kids run to me screaming my name and wanting "up," I always feel like a million bucks.  But when McPhee's there, the kids have a little less pep in their step when I come to through the door. At first, working mother's guilt tightened my chest and turned my stomach into knots.

Do they have more fun with her?  Am I losing my touch?

No, of course not.  I know that my kids love me... and thanks to a little developmental milestone called infant-parent attachment, the kids will love me pretty much no matter what I do... But the more I've thought about it, the more I want the kids to love their part-time sitter.  If they love her, I know she is caring for them in a way that I would.  If they kicked her out the door upon my arrival, I'd worry about how she really treats the kids.

So yeah, she's so awesome that I am competing with her, and that's just fine with me.

Here for the Potty.

I will never forget potty training Ashton.  I was convinced that potty training was a full-contact sport.  I was constantly hearing "PEE-PEE" and would yank up my little man, sprinting to the bathroom, planning my hose-management as I ran.  There was always pee somewhere: the floor, the seat, the wall... you get the drift.  This time around couldn't be more different, just as you might predict.  Reagan decided one morning that she was going to use the potty and really without very much coaxing, she's been going consistently on it since.

Ashton was totally interested in potty training, something that Reagan lacks, as it seems like she's just doing it because that's what your supposed to do.  Booooorrring...  Where is the giggle of delight when a trickling noise fills the bathroom?  Where's the thrill of finding poop laying in Elmo's basin?  Totally gone.  She's so over it.  I keep making this huge deal about everything, while she looks at me with the enthusiastic smile of 16 year old who catches the eye of her mom chaperoning the homecoming dance.

Nevertheless, it is nice to have our kids potty train themselves.  I don't know what that means about the adults around here... Is it weird to still be jazzed at 28 and 31?  We must be having a little too much fun doing our business, but hey, life's short.  We're here for the potty.

Grateful for friends!

Obviously since I work now, I have less time to spend with my SAHM friends.  Luckily, I had a chance to see two of my favs on one of my days off.  I'm pretty sure I had more fun than the kids, and was almost talked out by the end of it!  This is yet another example of my job being part of an amazing plan.  I'll save the job update for another post, but wanted to share a few pictures from our visit.

The kids love these cars and even though Dana's tall, she managed to do a great job of being the official playdate taxi.  

 Noah's a chick magnet in this jeep and would not get out of that thing for 100 cookies.  Though I caught him with his hands on the steering wheel, he preferred riding hands free, as any gangsta would.

Andrea playing a game of hide-and-seek, which was adorable. Though the kids are really terrible at hiding, they didn't seem to notice.