(no subject)

I was surrounded by sleeping cats this morning as I enjoyed my morning cup of coffee and internetting. And then…

… shuffle shuffle scritch scritch flapflapflap.

First one cat gets up and pads predatorily into the dining room.

The sounds get more intense. Two cats get up, three. All of them heading, ears back, into the dining room.

I’m thinking, “What the heck? Is the three legger stuck in a diaper box and can’t get out or something?”

I get up and follow all the cats into the dining room (reluctantly leaving my cup of coffee). They are all clustered in front of the fireplace and the flapping noises are getting more frantic. A bird! A bird stuck in our fireplace!

The fireplace itself is a turn-of-the-century fireplace, built in mantle and mercury glass mirror, with the original green 1900s tiling around the inset. It has a scalloped metal surround with a fitted metal piece that completely covers the insides/grate. We’ve only opened it twice since we moved in. And the first time we opened it, we found a looooong dead bird skeleton.

Bird! In the fireplace! I run upstairs with a hysterical giggle fueled by my quasi-adrenaline rush and wake Nicole. Bird in fireplace!

Of course, she immediately knows what to do. Thank God I married her. She goes out to the garage and gets her large fishing net and instructs me to hold the net. I help her pry off the fireplace cover and we discover (with the help of a flashlight) that the bird has wedged itself as far away from us as possible and might actually be stuck behind the built-in coal grate. Nicole goes outside for her garden gloves.

I’m still holding this ridiculously large net in the dining room with instructions: If the bird gets out of hand, Nicole is going to dump it in the net. If it doesn’t get freaked out, I’m to run to the front door and open it as she walks the bird outside.

She calmly reaches in and takes the bird carefully from the grate. The bird is really calm for a bird that was trapped in a fireplace surrounded by 8 cats. I run to the front door (holding the net) and open it. Nicole walks out into the yard and opens her hands – the bird flies away with a dust bunny dangling from a foot.

(no subject)

I was surrounded by sleeping cats this morning as I enjoyed my morning cup of coffee and internetting. And then…

… shuffle shuffle scritch scritch flapflapflap.

First one cat gets up and pads predatorily into the dining room.

The sounds get more intense. Two cats get up, three. All of them heading, ears back, into the dining room.

I’m thinking, “What the heck? Is the three legger stuck in a diaper box and can’t get out or something?”

I get up and follow all the cats into the dining room (reluctantly leaving my cup of coffee). They are all clustered in front of the fireplace and the flapping noises are getting more frantic. A bird! A bird stuck in our fireplace!

The fireplace itself is a turn-of-the-century fireplace, built in mantle and mercury glass mirror, with the original green 1900s tiling around the inset. It has a scalloped metal surround with a fitted metal piece that completely covers the insides/grate. We’ve only opened it twice since we moved in. And the first time we opened it, we found a looooong dead bird skeleton.

Bird! In the fireplace! I run upstairs with a hysterical giggle fueled by my quasi-adrenaline rush and wake Nicole. Bird in fireplace!

Of course, she immediately knows what to do. Thank God I married her. She goes out to the garage and gets her large fishing net and instructs me to hold the net. I help her pry off the fireplace cover and we discover (with the help of a flashlight) that the bird has wedged itself as far away from us as possible and might actually be stuck behind the built-in coal grate. Nicole goes outside for her garden gloves.

I’m still holding this ridiculously large net in the dining room with instructions: If the bird gets out of hand, Nicole is going to dump it in the net. If it doesn’t get freaked out, I’m to run to the front door and open it as she walks the bird outside.

She calmly reaches in and takes the bird carefully from the grate. The bird is really calm for a bird that was trapped in a fireplace surrounded by 8 cats. I run to the front door (holding the net) and open it. Nicole walks out into the yard and opens her hands – the bird flies away with a dust bunny dangling from a foot.

(no subject)

Source: thecolorsofmymind.tumblr.com via Blair on Pinterest

I’ve wanted to write a retrospective on my early motherhood journey for a while now. And update, of sorts, as to where I am and where Nicole and I are.

The short of it: We are a fabulously happy family of four these days. We’ve worked out many of the kinks, we’re enjoying life together in a way that I dreamed life with children would be. Walking through the fire together was totally worth it.

I didn’t blog very publically about PPD (for the uninitiated: post partum depression) because I was not myself, really. I am usually so upbeat and optimistic that even the thought of depression wasn’t seemingly feasible. But I was so jealous of mothers who were raving about how easy their experiences were, how much they were in love with their spouses and how children were effortless for them. I was so angry that I wasn’t having the motherhood experience that everyone describes with gaga eyes and the total unabashed *joy* during the sleepless nights and complete and total upheaval of everything you know.

I’m still convinced a lot of moms are lying about the experience or still trying to hold up the societal expectation of motherhood by saying all the right things, but I will say that there are those people out there for whom motherhood was an ultimate life goal – which it never was for me. Unlikely mother, unlikely experience. I’m also still convinced that there are people out there saying all the right things and falling apart when no one is looking – and this entry is for them. Go ahead, fall apart. Get some help. Life goes on. And it does, in fact, get better if and when you do.

Everything in my life has always been easy. I always got good grades without trying, promoted just be doing my best (which, by anyone else’s standards is excellent in this world where doing-enough-to-get-by is the norm), I make friends pretty effortlessly, connect with people easily (despite being an introvert) and I’ve always sailed higher and farther than anyone ever expected with just a tiny hint of effort.

I expected the same of motherhood. This was going to be easy for me like everything else was easy for me, right? Not so. And in that process, I had to deal with the anger and jealousy I was feeling directed at all the mothers who were having (or saying they were having) that miraculous experience I expected all mothers to have. I was disappointed in myself for not having it and wondered if having my mother as a mother was what was causing all of this. Would I never be attached to these kids? Why was my mother a mother? She didn’t seem like she wanted to be a mom, ever … what if I was like that, too?

Turns out, I was wrong. I am a fabulous mom. My kids adore us both, they trust us, they learn, they play, they adventure and dance, sing silly songs with us and hug the animals and us, blow kisses and bring us flowers. They make me appreciate on a daily basis that Nicole and I never gave up on each other – but more specifically that SHE never gave up on ME, even when I was being wicked, evil, mean, angry, upset, disappointed, scared, worried, sick to the heart.

Last night as she was tucking me in, we cuddled and talked about how we just want to feel safe with each other forever, to grow old together and never mention leaving each other. We talked about how far we’ve come, how much better things are and how we feel stronger in each other than we ever have before. We made a deal a year ago that we would *never* threaten each other with the thought of breaking up/leaving. It isn’t an option. We know we belong together and we’re committed to working through anything that comes up in our lives together. One of the major anxieties for us both is to shake that foundation. We will never talk about leaving each other. Period. That’s a major rule for the two of us – we are in this together. We are raising two amazing little boys together and that is how family is. Thick and thin.

I look back on the first year with kids and I’m so thankful that Nicole never gave up on me and I’m so thankful that we did it. We made it through the first year of multiples and now that we’re pushing 17 months, we laugh more than we ever have and listen to the kids giggle and smile at each other. We read stories together in the rocker every night and then go downstairs for mommy-time and talk about our days and how cute the kids were/are before we go to bed.

This is what life is like now. And I don’t think I would be nearly as grateful for it had I not had the coals to cross.

(no subject)

Source: thecolorsofmymind.tumblr.com via Blair on Pinterest

I’ve wanted to write a retrospective on my early motherhood journey for a while now. And update, of sorts, as to where I am and where Nicole and I are.

The short of it: We are a fabulously happy family of four these days. We’ve worked out many of the kinks, we’re enjoying life together in a way that I dreamed life with children would be. Walking through the fire together was totally worth it.

I didn’t blog very publically about PPD (for the uninitiated: post partum depression) because I was not myself, really. I am usually so upbeat and optimistic that even the thought of depression wasn’t seemingly feasible. But I was so jealous of mothers who were raving about how easy their experiences were, how much they were in love with their spouses and how children were effortless for them. I was so angry that I wasn’t having the motherhood experience that everyone describes with gaga eyes and the total unabashed *joy* during the sleepless nights and complete and total upheaval of everything you know.

I’m still convinced a lot of moms are lying about the experience or still trying to hold up the societal expectation of motherhood by saying all the right things, but I will say that there are those people out there for whom motherhood was an ultimate life goal – which it never was for me. Unlikely mother, unlikely experience. I’m also still convinced that there are people out there saying all the right things and falling apart when no one is looking – and this entry is for them. Go ahead, fall apart. Get some help. Life goes on. And it does, in fact, get better if and when you do.

Everything in my life has always been easy. I always got good grades without trying, promoted just be doing my best (which, by anyone else’s standards is excellent in this world where doing-enough-to-get-by is the norm), I make friends pretty effortlessly, connect with people easily (despite being an introvert) and I’ve always sailed higher and farther than anyone ever expected with just a tiny hint of effort.

I expected the same of motherhood. This was going to be easy for me like everything else was easy for me, right? Not so. And in that process, I had to deal with the anger and jealousy I was feeling directed at all the mothers who were having (or saying they were having) that miraculous experience I expected all mothers to have. I was disappointed in myself for not having it and wondered if having my mother as a mother was what was causing all of this. Would I never be attached to these kids? Why was my mother a mother? She didn’t seem like she wanted to be a mom, ever … what if I was like that, too?

Turns out, I was wrong. I am a fabulous mom. My kids adore us both, they trust us, they learn, they play, they adventure and dance, sing silly songs with us and hug the animals and us, blow kisses and bring us flowers. They make me appreciate on a daily basis that Nicole and I never gave up on each other – but more specifically that SHE never gave up on ME, even when I was being wicked, evil, mean, angry, upset, disappointed, scared, worried, sick to the heart.

Last night as she was tucking me in, we cuddled and talked about how we just want to feel safe with each other forever, to grow old together and never mention leaving each other. We talked about how far we’ve come, how much better things are and how we feel stronger in each other than we ever have before. We made a deal a year ago that we would *never* threaten each other with the thought of breaking up/leaving. It isn’t an option. We know we belong together and we’re committed to working through anything that comes up in our lives together. One of the major anxieties for us both is to shake that foundation. We will never talk about leaving each other. Period. That’s a major rule for the two of us – we are in this together. We are raising two amazing little boys together and that is how family is. Thick and thin.

I look back on the first year with kids and I’m so thankful that Nicole never gave up on me and I’m so thankful that we did it. We made it through the first year of multiples and now that we’re pushing 17 months, we laugh more than we ever have and listen to the kids giggle and smile at each other. We read stories together in the rocker every night and then go downstairs for mommy-time and talk about our days and how cute the kids were/are before we go to bed.

This is what life is like now. And I don’t think I would be nearly as grateful for it had I not had the coals to cross.