The Darbys

Cooking for Those Who Cannot Cook

2012-01-24T20:44:00.000-06:00

Dinner tonight was fantastic. Absolutely one of the best meals I've ever made. And I can write so confidently because my husband told me so, and he usually isn't afraid to tell me the truth. And I've had a couple of glasses of wine, so I basically think I am Rachel Ray's twin sister who is just a little taller with a bigger nose. Anywho, while my hubby is making my beautiful daughter look like something resembling a Garbage Pail Kid on the Photo Booth Ap on his new IPad, I am going to pretend to know how to cook and share my wealth of knowledge with those of you who were once like me. You just needed a little help and encouragement . . . and lots and lots of easy recipes and shortcuts.

For the record I am a horrible cook. Absolutely awful. I buy minced garlic instead of the real stuff for goodness' sake. I even made some baked chicken taste a lot like a rubber tire about a week ago, but I press on. I did continue to cook a few times a week while I was working (which, by the way, seems like a bad dream. Deciding to stay at home again was the best decision ever for me), but GrubHub was my family's best friend for dinner on many nights. Now that I'm a SAHM I do have a little more time to actually put thought into dinner, so I'm experimenting once again. Hang on, I need to laugh a second because Clint has Mimi bobbing her head to some Rhianna song. Hilarious. Anyway, it's not the most fun thing in the world to take two little ones to a grocery store, BUT I have a Jewel (similar to Kroger), Whole Foods, AND Trader Joes's in walking distance making it super-easy for me to stop by after we've been at the park to grab a couple of items I need rather than making a ginormous grocery trip.

This week I have been craving something really tasty but wanted to find a super-easy recipe. Then I remembered a fantastic Italian sausage pizza I made a few months ago that was so easy a two-year-old could make it (but probably not my two-year-old. She would eat all the toppings before even cooking the pizza). When I went to Jewel to grab the Italian sausage and a few other items, I noticed that the sausage only came in a 16oz package even though I only needed 8oz. I HATE to over-buy food that I know I'm going to waste such as when I only need half an onion, and I put the other half in the fridge to rot and stink everything up. So I bought the 16oz package while huffing and puffing about wasting the other half, and then, duh, it hit me that I can totally use the other half for dinner the next night.

So I am giving you two fantastic and easy-peasy recipes for very flavorful meals with ingredients that can be used in both (spinach, Italian sausage, goat cheese or feta, tomatoes, basil, Italian seasonings). Warning: I am NOT a health freak and I take as many short-cuts as possible. If you are a snob/foodie type of person then please do not judge. I'm sure you can totally take the recipes and "fancify" them if you choose. Also, I really, really wanted to take photos, but our mouths were watering so much from the smells coming from the kitchen that we couldn't wait to eat. I could take a photo of the dirty dishes or empty wine bottle, but I don't really thing you care about that sort of thing.

Meal #1: Italian Sausage Focaccia Pizza (feeds 2 if you're really hungry like my hubs and I always are. Maybe more if you add a salad). I ripped this from BH&G a couple of years ago.

-1 12-inch round flat rosemary or garlic focaccia. I could only find a tomato garlic on the day I stopped at Jewel, so I totally skipped the next ingredient.

-3/4 cup oil-packed dried tomato halves with Italian herbs (3oz). Honestly, I can never find these, so I just use tomato slices, EVOO, and some Italian spices.

-8oz Italian sausage (I bought mild)

-4oz (4 cups) baby spinach

-2oz goat cheese or feta (I always prefer goat)

-a little chopped basil if you have some

1. Heat oven to 250. Drain tomatoes (if you could actually find these tomatoes), reserving oil. Place focaccia on large baking sheet and brush with 2 tsp of the oil. Cut in 8 wedges (but keep pieces together) and place in warm oven.

2. Meanwhile in a 12-inch skillet cook sausage over med-high heat and break up with a wooden spoon. Drain sausage reserving 2 tsp drippings (don't you hate that word?) in skillet. Cook spinach in drippings just until wilted (just when you thought the spinach would make it a little nutritious).

3. Set oven to Broil. Top warmed focaccia with cheese, tomatoes, sausage, and spinach (and basil if you're up for it). Broil 4-5 inches from heat for 3-5 minutes or until cheese is softened and toppings are heated through. BE CAREFUL TO NOT BURN! Drizzle wedges with additional oil from tomatoes.

Meal #2: Italian Sausage Penne Pasta (this was enough for hubs, Mimi, and me)

-Penne Pasta (I used about half a 13.25oz box. I'm horrible at pasta servings)

-Salt

-8oz Italian sausage

-1/2 yellow onion chopped (now I have to figure out what to do with the other half!)

-1 tbsp minced garlic

-1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper (or more)

-2 tbsp chopped fresh basil (do yourself a favor and just buy a basil plant)

-1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (or shredded if you're lazy like I am)

-1/2 can of tomato basil or traditional herb pasta sauce (I use Newman's)

-1 can of chopped tomatoes with Italian seasonings

-Tone's Spicy Spaghetti Seasonings or some type of Italian spices

-Side salad: Spinach (or 50/50 Spring Mix/Spinach is great), tomatoes, goat cheese or feta, balsamic vinegar, and EVOO

1. Cook the pasta according to the package (add a little salt and olive oil)

2. While pasta is cooking, cook the sausage in a large skillet over med-high heat while breaking apart with a wooden spoon for about 7-8 minutes or until evenly browned. (Meanwhile, warm the pasta sauce, chopped tomatoes, basil, Italian seasonings, and pepper in a pot on med-low.)

3. Add the onion to the sausage and cook about 7-8 minutes more.

4. Add the garlic, some salt, and pepper to the sausage while stirring and cook about a minute. Add some olive oil and basil to this mixture just for the heck of it.

5. Drain the pasta in a colander and return to the pot. Stir in both the sausage mixture and sauce to the pot of pasta. Add the parmesan and stir or leave it on top to get melty and gooey. Remember: you can NEVER have too much cheese so make sure you have a bowl of parm on the table (or bar since the Darbys are too cool for a dining room table).

6. Serve a yummy side salad made of spinach, tomatoes, goat cheese or feta, and a dressing made of balsamic vinegar and EVOO (I use about 2 parts EVOO and 1 part balsamic).

I picked up a fantastic Red Zin called Varietals at Trader Joe's for about $9 that went perfectly with the pasta.

Okay, so try them out and tell me what you think. Just please let Clint know when you plan on cooking the pasta so he can show up at your door with a fork :).

A-WAAAAKE, my soul

2012-01-19T15:26:00.001-06:00

I fell in love with a guy named William my senior year of college. Yes, that was the same time I began dating Clint, and I've never told him about this infatuation I had. He was in one of my classes twice a week and the words he spoke were like none I'd ever heard.

And then this morning I heard about him again -- about his works and his passion -- and was loving it so much I almost ran off my treadmill into Al Roker's face on the TV. His words were in the songs sung by Mumford and Sons on my IPod . . . and it was truly magical.

I get very nerd-excited when I recognize wonderful literature alluded to in modern songs -- especially when the band is so bad-ass. And I love that some of the "Sigh No More" lyrics are from one of my faves Much Ado About Nothing. It's a really cool story about Benedick and Beatrice, who crush on each other but will not let the other know out of pride. Their friends trick them into confessing their love for each other, and they put an end to Benedick as a self-proclaimed bachelor. In defense of himself, Benedick says, "Man is a giddy thing." How true is that line? Isn't that what keeps women's magazines running? We can't seem to figure them out.

Anyway, it is a frosty 12 degrees outside, and I'm so glad this music energized me enough to jog a little this morning. Without realizing it I had turned up the speed on the treadmill to keep up with the beat, and had jogged a couple of miles in no time. I promise I didn't raise my arms or sing out loud. But I wanted to.

So add these to your workout playlist:
"Roll Away Your Stone"
"Awake My Soul"
"Little Lion Man"
"The Cave"
and for cooling down "Hold on to What You Believe"

Or just sit on your couch and blast it through the speakers. It may even make you dance. :)

Little Man

2012-01-19T13:58:00.000-06:00

He has such an innocent face . . .

. . .but will look me square in the eye and throw his entire plate of food in the floor. Then giggle.

He can say a few words -- "Tank tou" (thank you) is my favorite, but he prefers to make animal sounds.

He stands in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back like a little groomsman . . . then sends his Matchbox cars flying through the air with an ear-piercing squeal.

He is mesmerized by "The Tummy Song" on the new Winnie the Pooh movie,

and dances with so much happiness whenever Curious George comes on TV.

He likes to find out if he can sit down on little ledges and stairs,

and giggles when his sister joins him. (Yes, we've thrown that nasty pumpkin away.)

His blue eyes melt me.

He loves climbing on the couch by himself. Then off the couch. Then back on the couch.
And off. And then on again.

And I love finding him snuggled up by himself on the couch. He always giggles when I find him -- it's as if he's playing hide and seek. He thinks no one can find him if his head is down.

His sister loves to run from him and yell, "the Macky Monster is going to get us, Mommy!! Hurry! Hide!"

And then I look over and see this. My sweet little monster. Ha ha.

Best of 2011 List

2012-01-17T15:05:00.003-06:00

Although it's just the middle of January and I should be focusing on my NY's resolutions to floss my teeth and squeegee the shower, I'm already bored with it.

I KNOW!!! How can I already give up on the excitement of two fantastic resolutions??

Well, I haven't given up on the resolutions, but I am going to challenge myself to find even cooler things to get into this year. AND I also want to work on making 2012 even better than 2011 (which will be difficult), so I'm going to go back and meditate on what was so great about last year. We'll call this list . . .

THE BEST OF 2011 LIST

So here we go . . .

1. I started jogging a little. Favorite Pandora Station for Jogging: The Killers station. Mumford and Sons is a close second. I think I've actually jogged more since NYE than I did the entire year last year (go me).

2. Clint and I were able to attend some really cool concerts. Best Concert of the Year: David Gray. Hands down. I sat on the edge of my seat and swayed and sang along and came really close to being that girl and screaming, "I love you, David!!" Oh, swoon.

3. I made time to read a little. Best Book I Read This Year: Loving the Little Years: Motherhood in the Trenches by Rachel Jankovic. Changed. My. Life. If you're a mom, buy it and read it. And highlight it. And read it again.

4. We learned how to function with energetic kids in the winter. Favorite Playspace: Pickles Cafe. Ahhh-mazing. Much better than any of the others on the north side of the city. It's big but not too big. They play cool music for the parents. Their sandwiches are awesome. They have a toddler slide and rock-climbing wall. AND it even has a salon with cool chairs and small TVs with cartoons. Fantastic.

5. Mimi started taking some classes. Best Way to Burn off Toddler Energy in the Winter: Lil' Kickers Soccer. They run and run and run and run and kick and kick and run and, whew, and run some more. AND the coaches are so cute that Mimi has mini crushes on them. I'm not even kidding.

6. We discovered really great local pizza. Best Pizza: Pequod's. If you're a visitor and want to try one of the popular pizza places, let me suggest a local place called Pequod's first. We usually order regular crust, but if you want to try deep-dish their crust is caramelized and not too gooey or doughy like some of the others.

7. We learned how to eat a great dinner while I was a working mom. Best Chinese Delivery (I didn't say healthy): Yen's. And order the Crabmeat Wonton with Cheese. Don't call it anything different or they get mad. We also discovered Big Boy Gyros, which is just as awesome as its name.

8. I learned how to dress my children in clothes that aren't smocked. People just don't do that here, and I was happy to find something new. It also pushed me to sew more for Mimi, which has been so fun. My favorite local store: Little Threads (they are about to turn the back of the store into a Tea store -- hooray!!).

9. Favorite Old TV Series to Watch on Netflix: Friday Night Lights. Thank you, Lacy Finkle. Wow, Clint and I were just a little obsessed with this one. A small, southern town whose drama is centered around a high school sports team. Isn't this how most of us grew up?

10. Best, Yet Most Difficult, Decision I Made this Year: Going back to work and then realizing I needed to stay at home. Now I know what it's like on both sides of the fence, and I can say this -- they're both really, really hard.

11. I learned to enjoy my children as individuals. Favorite Thing to Do with Mimi: Go on a walk. It's a little stressful because she stops and touches and wants to talk about EVERYTHING (even dog poo), but it forces me to slow down and really talk to her. Because she asks a million questions (even about dog poo).
Favorite Thing to Do with Mack: Read. If things get quiet in the den I know where to find him: in Mimi's room pulling books off her shelves. He will push me down, shove a book at me (sometimes leaving bruises), stick his little booty in my face, and plop down in my lap. He loves a lap and a book. And I do, too.

12. 2nd Favorite Morning Drink: Coffee is a given, but it sometimes it turns me into a spaz way too early in the day. So my new second favorite is (not bloody Marys or mimosas -- don't want to go to playgroup tipsy, now do I?) is Chai Tea. It smells good and is easier to make than coffee. And it's one of those things that makes me feel all Zen-like.

13. Best Lesson I Learned: To love my life right now. To stop being jealous of my mid-twenties single, care-free life or to stop saying, "I can't wait until the kids are older and . . .". My life right now is pretty awesome just the way it is right now. Sure, my floors are sticky, I rarely shower daily, and I can't sit on the couch for longer than ~~5 minutes~~ 1 minute at a time, BUT I have two of the cutest and funniest little monkeys to hang out with all day. My twenty-four-year-old self would be pretty jealous of all the love I get from them. :)

Chin Up

2012-01-12T07:25:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was bad.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

The weather was nice. My children were sweet and funny. My husband had a great day.

I was the one who was so bad.

Like so bad that I raised my voice and actually threw something and broke it. Wow. I don't think I've ever done that. My tone sounded like Darth Vader's. I had so much anger that flames could have burst out of my ears at any moment.

I usually try to giggle when things start to spin out of my control because I know that one day I will laugh at this, and I know that I am never actually in control of my world. But I had absolutely zero control over anything. Nothing. And so I lost my shiz. A lot.

I could pinpoint a bazillion things that happened -- Mimi was exhausted but refused to nap. Mack ran as I was changing his diaper and pooped in the floor. Some dumbass parent didn't shut the gate at the park, so Mimi and a buddy escaped and ran toward a busy intersection. After cleaning up all the pine needles in the floor after removing decorations and lights, Mimi grabbed my broom and scattered them EVERYWHERE. And then immediately did it again. And again. Both of my kids were extremely picky eaters at dinner. And the list could go on and on and on.

Now that I have it typed up in front of me it all seems a bit silly. I'm embarrassed that I couldn't control my emotions. I'm angry that I broke my favorite dust pan. I'm sad that Mimi saw me make a complete jerk of myself.

God gave me these specific children for a reason. I'm sure of it. And it's time like these that I begin to see a glimpse of why.

When my tone turned angry, Mimi started imitating it, roared at me, and then told me that she also wanted to play monsters.

When I threw the dust pan and broke it, she told me I needed to play nicely with my toys so I don't break them. Then she said I should go to time out and think about it.

When my two children were running around screaming like wild monkeys at the park with another little girl, her mom told me, "Wow, they are little daredevils. I love their energy! Aren't they so entertaining and fun? My daughter is having a blast with them."

Mack had at least ten serious giggle fits last night. Like I thought I might tee tee in my pants giggle fits. And he and Mimi really played together well. When it was his bedtime, she begged for me to let him play with her longer. Melt me.

So, chin up, Jeri Anne. Today is a new day. A better day. Snow is coming and everything should be clean and white and pretty by tonight. I'm going to let yesterday go and force myself to giggle . . .

It's Not Every Day . . .

2012-01-07T22:51:00.003-06:00

. . . that my daughter begs to wear her new tutus and a gigantic flower in her hair AND allows me to get in her face with a camera.

I must take advantage of rare times like this.

This might be my fave.

Out with the Old

2012-01-07T21:49:00.005-06:00

It's so cool to have a New Year's Resolution, and I strive to be cool on a daily basis. I fail miserably. Daily. But I still must play along for fun.

So I have two resolutions:

1.) To floss.

And not just because the dental assistants always take a disgusted deep breath when they begin flossing my teeth and realize that I don't ever bother. But because I could actually live longer. I remember reading something about how the plaque build-up in between my teeth can actually lead to a heart attack. I have no idea if it's true or not, but flossing leads to better health and better breath. I say "why not?"

2.) To fix all things broken and dirty.

Around the house, that is. We don't really have anything broken, but there have been several light bulbs that I needed to replace. Also, there is serious soap scum build-up on our glass shower doors, and I've let it go long enough. That's right. I finally pulled out some Lysol and bought a squeegee. Yes! That is a real word. I Googled it. And I thought it was just something that rich people and my sister bought, but I've begun noticing that basically everyone with glass shower doors has one. Oh my. So now I do, too.

Okay, I know this is not what you were hoping to see. I'm sure you wanted me to resolve to do something fantastic, but really that's all the energy I have right now. The holidays absolutely wore me out, and these are the only two achievable things that come to mind.

The only other thing I could possibly think about is maybe getting a job. Not a real job. But maybe a small part-time something. But I don't really want set hours or a whole lot of responsibility. Because my real job is being a mommy, which I take very seriously and is full-time with some crazy over-time hours. I've just been thinking that maybe I could find some sort of outlet for all this creative energy I have that is dying to get out (I mean, did you see my last post with all the ridiculous homemade nonsense?). Maybe I haven't written about this on the blog much, but I get a wee bit of anxiety occasionally when I haven't had time to "make" something. I can write a little, draw a little, paint a little, sew a little, cook a little, and dabble in a few other things, but I'm not really fantastic and any of this. Basically I just want someone to babysit my monkeys a few hours a week so I can create something. So I need to get paid enough to cover a sitter. Sewing and blogging help me a little but they pay nothing (unless I sew for someone else but I'm not good enough to actually expect someone to pay for it). Wanna hire me? Or better yet, do you want to babysit for me for free? Oh, I can hear the people lining up outside my door right now.

Moving on. In case you didn't notice, we just started a new year. Hello, 2012. So far you're not too bad.

And most cool people dress up in sparkles and make reservations, and then yell numbers backwards loudly while blowing into a shiny paper horn thing.

But if one is REALLY cool, he or she actually hosts a party.

Meet the two coolest folks around.

Mr. and Mrs. Darby. New Year's Eve party hosts extraordinaire.

And what would good hosts be without posting some fantastically embarrassing photos on-line? Well, probably hosts that no one would be mad at but whatever.

We can't take all the credit because the two love birds below actually co-hosted. But they don't have a blog so I guess I can write whatever I want.

And the monkeys were there. At least until their bedtime.
What happens when you mix MY children in with a NYE party?
Everyone starts having more fun, that's what.

A night at home with wonderful friends was perfect. No crowds. No lines. No uncomfortable shoes that I couldn't take off for risk of cutting my feet and developing an infection. This was exactly what I wanted for a start to a new year. Cheers to 2012 and sweet, sweet friends.

Happy New Year!

Happy Christmas

2012-01-01T22:05:00.019-06:00

Why do we say "Merry" Christmas and "Happy" New Year?

My South African neighbor recently told me "Happy Christmas," and I couldn't stop giggling.

So I have absolutely no point to that and this is going nowhere, so I'll get on with the photos that have taken me forever to get together and post for my two readers -- who are probably family members who are hoping their faces show up on the internet. Just kidding. :)

The Darby family put up a real tree and covered it in sparkly twinkle lights and plan to leave it up until almost every last needle has fallen off. And I let Mimi begin the decorating this year.

And this is where all the ornaments are placed when one allows a tiny creature to decorate the tree.
We played in a little snow. Although it was only a little. And it was gone by Christmas.
I felt the need to be crafty and finally made a stocking for Mack. The poor guy didn't even have one last year.
And jommer pants for Mimi.
And then got all cocky and made matching jommer pants for Mimi and me . . . I know this is getting ridiculous, isn't it?
And I made Christmas pillows for my neighbors (by the way, totally stole some of these ideas from Bumbletees. "Like" them on Facebook because they're awesome).
And kitchen towels for Mimi's teachers.
And then a reversible skirt and matching headband for Mimi.
And then I almost lost my marbles because I was pretending I had enough hours in the day to sew all this crap along with actually getting everything else prepared that needed to be prepared.

And I broke down and bought one of those stupid little elves. You know the one that everybody and her sister posted photos of on FB every morning? "Look what my silly little elf Bozo did last night. He threw all the clean, folded laundry all over the den and cracked eggs all over the kitchen!" I just couldn't go to those extremes, so "Chippy" (that's the name Mimi gave him. And then I learned it was the same name as in the movie, which makes the little elf even more freaky) had about 5 spots that he moved to in the middle of the night. We read the book and I get why so many parents and kids think this is fun, but I think it's manipulation.

And I'm also a little weird about the Santa thing. Of course we read stories about him and the kids had gifts from him and normally have their photo taken with him (somehow didn't happen this year), but I tried very hard to not talk about the whole "if you're good you'll get gifts. If not, then Mommy will need to talk to Santa." I actually saw a dad take a little one out of Old Navy and lecture him in the freezing cold about how he and Mommy have a direct line to Santa . . . all while the tyke was crying his eyes out. How about we just teach them to be good because, well, that's what we're supposed to do, right? We don't hit because it hurts others. We listen to Mommy because she's smart and wants to take care of us. We are patient in line because others are also waiting. Geez.

But, like I said, we do allow Santa to come to our house . . . . simply for this reaction:
Whew. So glad the big guy pulled it off this year because it's getting harder and harder for him to sneak down the chimney and quietly get all those little pieces set up just right.
That is the coolest doll house ever, by the way. It has a grill and a laundry hamper and a high chair and bunk beds. And Mimi has almost as much fun playing with it as I do.

And my little man received cars and wooden pegs and a hammer and a t-ball set and lots of other boyish and noisy items. He was in H-E-A-V-E-N.

I am the Queen of Christmas presents! You will bow to my light-up sceptor! (which was broken within 4 hours)

Do you have any idea what they are supposed to do with that red bowl-shaped thing in the photo above? It's called a Bilibo. Nope? Me neither. I bought it on sale at a local toy store simply because I saw that it won a bunch of awards, and then I got on-line to see exactly what to do with this thing. And guess what. The makers of this thing don't know what to do with it either! I read several articles that ask, "What exactly is the Bilibo? It's whatever kids want it to be!" How ingenious! Why can't I make a product like this?

Santa actually came to our house a little early since the monkeys and I were flying to Nashville before Christmas. Yes, the flight was awesome. The kids were so psyched about it that this is what they did as soon as they got in my sister's car:

That RARELY happens.

We had beautiful weather in Nashville, and the kids (all 7 of them! No, my sister's not a Dugger. That's her children plus mine plus my brother's) were so amazing. They are old enough to entertain themselves along with entertaining mine. Soooo fan-tastic!

Teaching Mack to play football. The pacifier helps him concentrate.
Lainee-Luckett still has the best arm in the family. And she brought her own jersey. Watch out for her as the first female Ole Miss player. I'm serious.
M & M kept wandering over to the neighbor's yard because they were fascinated with their little bridge. And when there are two children and bridge, what is a mom to do? She is to teach them to play "Pooh Sticks," of course. Now I'm not going to go into the rules of the game because they are just too difficult to explain to common folk. Get a copy of an old Winnie the Pooh book, and if you're smart enough, maybe you can figure it out. My clever children are quite fantastic at this sport.
Where we put the children when they got too rowdy.
Sweet girls. Watch out for the two older ones. They are trouble. :)
Oh my, oh my. What is that book Mom is reading to Mack? It's Curious George, of course. He is OBSESSED with George and Pooh. Almost as much as I am.
Clint is the Dog Whisperer. All creatures love him. (or maybe he just smells like bacon)
You are about to see a photo of the happiest man alive . . .
. . . and this is why . . .
Have we lost our minds to give this man a gun? It's quite possible, but it's all he's wanted for the past few years. I feel like I should send a hand-written apology to his neighbors.

Some kitty cat love at the Darby's in Memphis.
Stinker pants. He used Mimi's Tinker Toy box as a drum. I think we may have a musician in the family. Is he carrying on the legacy, Top?
Chaos in the kitchen floor. Just give them some pots and pans . . . and a pirate ship, and that will keep them busy for, oh, at least 7 minutes.
This was the only moment these four monkeys were still the entire time we were in Memphis. What a fun little group they are.
And then home again, home again . . . back to reality. And I do hope your holidays were as happy as ours :)

To Tolerate or Not to Tolerate

2011-12-30T09:59:00.007-06:00

Today is a day that I like to call "Procrastination after a Long Trip Day." It's my own personal holiday after a holiday. Yes, I have large suitcases to unpack and new toys and generous gifts that I must find a new home for, but instead I will drink coffee and will veg with my children in front of PBS cartoons and will wear comfortable workout clothes when I have absolutely zero intention of doing anything remotely close to burning calories. Well, I might take a trip around the den on Mimi's new scooter, but that's about it. We are completely out of garbage bags and very close to being out of toilet paper, but it's raining cats and dogs outside, which is my excuse for not getting out to buy more. Maybe I can borrow from the neighbors . . .

This morning I noticed Mack drinking from a sippy cup that wasn't his and realized a buddy left it at a play group I hosted a million years ago, which prompted me to get on Facebook to send a message to the moms, which forced me to read every single new post since I checked it last night, and that caused me to come across a new article written by a mom on NPN. Whatevs, you know I don't need an excuse to stalk people on FB. Anyway, this post was about the rules with noisy toddlers, which I just HAD to read since my last post was about almost exactly the same thing -- tolerance and noisy children.

Hers was specifically about restaurants, and she concluded that moms need to take their screaming children out immediately while other restaurant patrons could also be a little more tolerant. She mentioned a restaurant in Pennsylvania called McDain's, which recently banned all children under 6 because "Their volume can't be controlled and many, many times, they have disturbed other customers."

Okay, I can understand that. Sometimes I also want to go to a nice, quiet restaurant and actually have a conversation with my husband or a friend. I'm not offended by that at all. But the restaurant also commented, "their endless screams at public dinner tables are the height of being impolite and selfish."

Hmmmm . . . they are the height of being impolite and selfish.

This makes me giggle. Well, of course they are at the height of being impolite and selfish. That's what toddlers are. They don't know the ways of society and don't give a rip about what others think of them. But was it wise for the restaurant to make that statement? And if the parents are allowing the little ones to stay at a table in a public place while they are endlessly screaming, well then that is another problem. I should know because it JUST happened to me a couple of nights ago.

I spent one night at my parents' home this week, and my dad took us to his favorite restaurant, Catfish Hotel, so we could get our fill on all things deep-fried (yummmmmm). Mimi didn't get the best nap that day, but I truly thought she would be fine once we got there. It's a very kid-friendly restaurant, and she has always been able to find another little buddy to look out the window with. Near the end of the meal she had a bit of a melt-down when I wouldn't allow her to run around like a chicken with her head cut off. I know, I'm such a mean mom. But the truth was that she was tired and had very little control over her actions, and I knew this. So I stuffed one last hushpuppy in my mouth and got her out of there as quickly as possible. It wasn't her fault. It was mine. Of course I took the opportunity to explain why we don't act like headless chickens in public places, but she didn't get punished.

I did get some looks from other tables while I was rushing her out of the place, but 95% of them were also parents or grandparents who were thinking, "oh, that poor thing." The other 5% can just go eat at McDain's in Pennsylvania.

It also happened a few weeks ago at a local Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood, which happens to be the most kid-friendly neighborhood in the city. And it was about 5:30PM, which is when only families with toddlers and senior citizens go to restaurants. The other parents don't mind, and the seniors can't hear. It works out well for everyone. Anyway, we were with other families and three toddlers squealed at the same time, which most of us thought was kind of funny (well, probably because we had several pitchers of margaritas by this point), BUT out of the corner of my eye I saw that one table of two forty-something-year-old women gawking and complaining to their waiter. Great.

So the manager came over and the concerned expression on her face completely melted when she saw our table. She let us know another table complained, but our children are so little and they seemed to be having so much fun. Then she winked and said that she just wanted to make sure that table saw her come over and say something, and then she brought crayons.

. . . the height of being impolite and selfish . . .

One reason this statement makes me giggle is that the children have done nothing wrong. Crying and being noisy isn't a sin. It isn't evil. But this restaurant has stated that it is "selfish," which is indeed not a good thing to be. I assume what they mean is that the parents are being selfish. The parents have selfishly gotten themselves and their toddlers bathed and in nice clothes. They selfishly packed snacks and crayons and Magnadoodles along with diapers and wipes and an extra change of clothes and plastic utensils and bibs and a bazillion other things into a ginormous diaper bag instead of bringing a stylish little purse. These same selfish parents then struggled with the little ones to get on their shoes and coats and then wrestled them into car seats. They selfishly waited on a table and quickly moved away all the glasses and sharp utensils so their children wouldn't knock them over or throw them across the room. The selfish moms balanced nursing a baby under a gigantic cover while helping her husband shovel chicken nuggets and peas in a picky toddler's mouth to keep her quiet. Then they selfishly pack away most of their dinner into styrofoam containers because the little ones have reached their melting point. How. Freaking. Selfish.

Yes, there are those parents whose only action with fussy ones in public is to yell at them to make them stop yelling, which we all know never works. But more times than not the majority of parents are the ones I described above. They just want to have a nice evening out with their family because they know that the benefits are worth the risk. It is worth all the trouble it takes to get my family out of the house. I try my best to make sure that no one is sleepy or starving or needs to potty or get a clean diaper. I try to pack my bags with all the essentials. We call ahead for early reservations and ask for a table in the back when available. And if all goes as planned, we get a good meal that we don't have to prepare or clean up and my children show us the best time. They usually dance at the table to the music, joke with the waiters, and say really, really funny things to the people sitting around us. The risk is SO worth it. They are the most interesting and best dinner dates Clint and I have ever had.

So go eat at McDain's and other places banning children. Sit in peace and quiet and turn your nose up at anything louder than the terrible elevator music I'm sure they'll be playing. Don't take the risk of being tickled beyond belief at the funny things that toddlers do in restaurants. Having children isn't for everyone, and I don't recommend to people who are even the slightest bit unsure of it. But you want to see how selfish you are? Then have a kid. I never realized what a narcissist I was until Mimi came along. I used to wake up early and take FOREVER to get ready to go anywhere -- to work, to dinner, to the grocery store. I would piddle and watch TV and pluck my eyebrows and chat on the phone and check my e-mail. I would clean out a closet and then mess it up again looking for just the right outfit for lying around the house and watching reality TV. I could spend all day shopping for the perfect socks or downloading new music.

But I never had enough time to get anything done. Ha. Ha ha ha ha. I was so stupid and selfish. I wanted to have children so badly, but I never knew how badly I needed these children. Clint and I are smarter and stronger and closer to God than we've ever been or ever would have been if we didn't have children. They taught us so much about life that we owe it to them to give it all we have. Which means taking them out in public places to have fun -- and to show them how to politely have fun in public places. To teach them everything we know by spending lots of quality time with them. To feed them healthy food and make sure they get plenty of exercise. To teach them to be kind and selfless and patient -- and these especially we must teach by example, which isn't always easy.

The past couple of weeks of traveling and eating in restaurants and staying at several other homes and sharing space with people of all ages has been GREAT for all of us. Not always easy but it has given Clint and me the best opportunities to teach them all of these things (and to learn more ourselves). If we never took the risk, then how would each of us learn and grow? We wouldn't.

So the crazy point I'm trying to make is this -- I hate it for those who don't take the risk to include children. I'm not mad at the restaurants and other places that ban children. Whatevs -- they're trying to make good business decisions. But I'm mad at the attitudes of those who ban children. Who don't see their importance. Who don't want to listen to their noise. Who push them away constantly for a quiet, peaceful moment. Please don't miss the opportunities you have with your little ones. The opportunities to make sure they have fun and are learning to be just as cool as you are. If you don't like how they're behaving, then show them how to do it correctly. We all learn best from examples.

Something about lots of families getting out to celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus (the key here being BABY) has made me think a lot of attitudes toward little ones. Even if you think Jesus was just a complete nutcase who claimed to be the son of God, you can't argue with the example he set for mankind. He was kind to EVERYONE -- a dirty tax collector, a hooker by a well, dirty sick folks with no insurance, and noisy, fussy little children. They probably had boogers in their nose and sticky hands, and Jesus was so cool that he asked them to come to him even though the snooty adults told them to go away. He knew that those little ones were important. He knew the importance of putting others first.

I've always loved this Proverb, ". . .refresh others and you will be refreshed . . ."

I pray I never forget that.

And that I never have to eat at McDain's.

Make a Joyful Noise

2011-12-21T13:58:00.009-06:00

In a house full of 7 young children, I have finally found a nice, quiet spot for just a few moments . . .

. . . but I don't know how to sit still and rest and be quiet, so why not catch up the blog . . .

My two little wild monkeys have FINALLY crashed after spending a couple of days with their 5 middle school-aged cousins. They tried so hard to hang, but their little bodies just can't do it yet. After a serious Mimi meltdown, she is sound asleep in Coco's bed. Whew.

In case I haven't told you, I flew to Nashville this past Monday. With my two toddlers. BY. MYSELF.

And no drugs were involved. Just snacks and cartoons and prayer.

But we made it, and I will TOTALLY be doing that again. Not half as bad as I thought it would be. Clint was able to go to the gate with us, so I basically only had them by myself for about an hour and a half. The flight attendants and captain were ridiculously sweet as were most of the surrounding passengers on the plane. But OF COURSE there was this one lady who sat right behind us who was ill and grumpy and whined, whined, whined. My children were much better behaved than she was, so maybe I'm not such a bad parent after all.

The only moment of the trip where my palms got sweaty was the few minutes before we boarded the plane. Mimi saw people ahead of us in line going toward the plane and was so worried that they were leaving us. She hasn't grasped the idea of lines yet and how there was room for everyone. So she began freaking out, and all of the sweet folks around us assured her that they wouldn't let the airplane take off without her -- she was the star guest. And then several other passengers told me how they have small children or have had small children (or have friends with small children, or whatever they could think of to make my hands stop shaking) . . . and then all my worry melted away. My crazy kids couldn't possibly be the worst children to ever fly.

Do the rest of you get nervous about times like this? We recently invited friends to dinner with us, and the mom commented that she didn't want to be that person who brings a baby to an innappropriate place. I assured her it would be fine, and it totally would have, but I knew what she was thinking at that time. She wanted to avoid the stares and rolled eyes and flared nostrils from others who don't love the noise of children so much.

But when my children and I were settled in our seats eating crackers and cookies and pretzels and watching a Winnie the Pooh movie, the last passenger chose the middle seat behind us, which was the last on the plane. Well, it wasn't quite the last because there actually was an empty seat next to me . . . but it only took a couple of seconds to understand why she didn't choose that one. After she knocked out everyone around us with her bulky bags and then gave them a half-hearted apology, she turned to the cute guy by the window and began attempting to flirt. She asked where he was from, commented on the football team on his hat, and then bragged about something expensive she owned. Then she began griping about how she was a terrible flier, and was mad at a lady at the front of the plane who was sitting next to the window with "her dumb kid" and wouldn't budge. Out of the corner of my eye (I just wrote that like I casually glanced, but you know I was totally spying) I saw the guy roll his eyes and look out the window.

And then I realized something. Every time Mimi and Mack made a peep on that plane some sweet soul turned around to give them (or me) a smile or a wink. Not everyone loves the sounds of children, but NO ONE loves the sounds of a complaining adult. Especially when that adult is complaining about an innocent little toddler.

I am going to carry this lesson with me this week . . . no matter how many children are crammed in the house with me. I will encourage my noisy children and nieces and nephews to keep making noise and make it joyfully. That noise means they're healthy and happy and how can I not love that?

I can't wait to catch you up on the rest of our time in the south, but for now I must watch the rest of the Toddlers and Tiaras marathon with my nieces, who will no doubt have the best commentary ever.

And Mimi wanted me to introduce the family boxer, Lucy.
Love, love, love her.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah to you all! More to come later . . .

Let's Go Back . . .

2011-12-13T19:25:00.004-06:00

. . . and I mean waaay back to September. I remembered there were some photos we downloaded to Clint's computer while at the beach because my memory card was full. But I finally moved them, and although the quality was pretty awful (some little one had been playing with my camera that day) I'm still pretty excited to finally be able to see them again!

Control Issues

2011-12-07T17:42:00.008-06:00

I have a confession. Lately I've been a bit of a . . . dare I say it? Hi, my name is Jeri Anne Darby and I am a Type-A control freak.

If you know me, you know that this is waaaay abnormal behavior. It is just not in my nature to not be okay with, well, pretty much anything that is thrown at me, but I have learned that this is completely normal . . . I mean, I am a human being and all.

I heard some news yesterday morning that literally rocked my new control-freak world. I was sadly reminded that I am really not the one in charge. Not at all.

Let me start this story with telling you about a really great guy I went to elementary and high school with. His name is Ron and he is about the nicest guy I've ever met. I mean super-nice but not in a dorky pushover kind of way but a nice that is genuine and caring. He was a football captain and president of the FCA our senior year. He was even voted Mr. ACHS (along with a really dorky girl for Miss ACHS . . . not sure what our class was even thinking), and basically everyone liked him. I remember sitting in Mrs. Foust's senior English class one morning, and Ron turned around in his seat to ask me what I thought about Amanda Cossey. Should he ask her to prom?

Oh my gosh. Amanda was a couple of years younger than us and possibly the sweetest girl I'd ever met. Why hadn't I ever thought of this brilliant match? It was too, too perfect. He was a football player and she was a dancer . . . he was FCA president and her father was a preacher . . . they were both smart and cute and nice. Too perfect.

So they went to prom . . . and started dating . . . went to college . . . and Ron eventually became the head coach of a high school football team in the small Mississippi town of New Albany. Amanda also taught there and was a speech pathologist. When I was a cheerleader sponsor at a nearby high school, I can remember Ron coming across the field giggling after his team played mine because he heard some cheers from our old high school (remember the "Get. The ball. Get, get, get the ball" one? And the "Football jerseys, football socks, we've got the Bulldogs by their jocks. Pull, team, pull!" It's tacky but so fun.) I was so glad to see his smiling face and find out that he and Amanda had gotten married. And then a few years later I found out they were expecting a baby girl a few months before I had Mimi. I was so very happy for such a sweet and deserving couple. And everyone I've ever met from their new small town felt the same way. What a perfect, perfect couple.

According to the newspapers, Ron and Amanda had just arrived at home Tuesday night after taking a student to an all-star game, and Amanda had let their dog out into the backyard. Just an average day in their life. Get home. Put down their things. Put the baby in bed. Take out the dog . . .

Then she spotted an intruder . . . screamed . . .

. . . and was shot.

Ron ran outside . . . and he was also shot. Ron is expected to be okay . . . but Amanda . . .

So now that three-year-old girl has no mommy and Ron has lost his best friend, and my heart hasn't broken like this in a very, very long time. I am so freaking angry and sick that I can't stand it. I want to find this person who committed this act and . . . well, basically all the same things you're thinking right now. But it won't bring her back to her sweet family . . . and it won't changed the horrible things that have happened.

I spent most of my day yesterday being angry. What the hell? Why did something so awful happen to such awesome people?

But the truth is that bad things happen to pretty much everybody in some way . . . as do good things. We have absolutely no control over many, many things. No matter how much planning and preparation and effort I put toward disciplining and teaching my children, cleaning and cooking, and all the many, many other things in my life I try to control, it can all be taken away instantly. Life has to go on, and we have to figure out how to continue.

So today I decided to stop trying to control and to just let it go. Of course I fed my children and brushed my teeth and all the other things I normally feel I need to do, but I didn't lose it on my children when they made absolutely the most ridiculous messes ever (like I did recently. Ouch. It hurts to admit).

Like this guy who loves to steal ornaments from the tree . . .

"I need this turtle dove. Mom won't notice."

I let them eat their snacks in the den and space out watching a movie.

This has been a hard one for me lately because Mack LOVES to shake the heck out of his snack container until all the Goldfish or pretzels or whatever are slung literally all over the room.

Just a friendly game of keep-away.

And then they stomped on their Goldfish, and Mack decided he needed to "swim" all over them.

I refrained from yelling and cussing and spanking and losing my shiz like I did recently over a puzzle mess. Seriously. People, I promise I try really hard to be a great mommy, but sometimes I am TERRIBLE at this. Not often. But it does happen.

So after I completely lost it, that night I got my pay-back. When little Mack hurt himself on something and cried, Mimi sweetly asked me, Oh, shit, Mommy. What happened?

Yes, you read that correctly. She said a four-letter word. It's no lie that I don't use them when I feel necessary, but I don't exactly want my daughter at three-years-old to use them. And I don't say them around her. But I guess in one of my rants over a bazillion puzzle pieces being slung all over the downstairs, I let that word slip. A good friend reminded me that I'm going to mess up occasionally, but I still want to stick my head under a pillow and hide in shame over that one.

But Mimi and I discussed how that word isn't appropriate for her to use, and she was all cool about it and hasn't said it since.

So anyway, I was much more chill and regular and not all uptight and strict today, and guess what? Things went much more smoothly. All I can do while I'm on this earth is try to be kind and good and teach my children the same. I'll make sure we have some fun along the way (a whole lot of fun), and I'll try to be prepared . . . but that's all I can do.

So on that note, Mimi painted a picture. I know it has nothing to do with anything, but she did.

I like how she has to hold her tongue just right.

While I was snapping this shot, she was telling me, "Wait, Mommy! I not finished! Just one more thing! The princess castle needs a sidewalk, so she can get to the train and go to work downtown!"

Like a princess walks on a sidewalk to take a train to her job downtown. She rides in a chariot. Duh.

I will leave you with this until next time . . .

I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Matthew 6:19-34

The Fall Finale

2011-12-01T21:26:00.014-06:00

Oh, lucky you. You are about to get the biggest dose ever of Darby kid photos. Grab a cup of coffee . . . never mind -- make it a glass of wine . . . because this is going to take a while. This is the sort of thing that happens when the days get a little too crazy for me to sit still long enough to download photos and type up a blog post. And, boy, has November been a crazy month around here. Clint and I had to have a bit of a come-to-Jesus talk last night because I've had a problem of stopping to sit and relax and smell the roses. So this is the product of my sitting . . . and relaxing . . . and smelling the Christmas tree . . .

Just a little bit of Darby love . . .

Sure, they fight and fuss and steal toys from each other, but they do love each other so.

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First I must go back . . .

. . . to Halloween and wrap up Fall before moving on to my favorite time of year -- the celebration of baby Jesus. Yes, I too think that the baby Jesus is my favorite Jesus. But I'll get to that later. Now for a little more of a Chicago Autumn . . .

Let's go waaayyyy back to the fun Pumpkin Fest at our neighborhood school -- possibly the school my kiddos will attend (I mean, it's only a block away. Fingers crossed the tour is amazing).

Linus waiting on the Great Pumpkin . . .

So Mimi wanted to be a cowgirl riding a plush purple and pink unicorn, but then she broke up with the unicorn and became a cowgirl with no horsey. Whatevs. Either way I needed to finally find a way to make her sit still long enough for Jessie-style French braids. Voila!!!!

Our neighborhood also has a perfect toddler Halloween parade, which basically consists of the neighborhood high school marching band (It's the most beautiful high school ever. I must take a photo one day) and then the families march behind. How simple is that? Why in the world doesn't every town do that? Then all the stores pass out candy to the kiddos and everyone has a fantastic sugar high and takes a good nap.

Yes, I know I'm repeating the Halloween blog, and I've already talked about some of the festivities surrounding this fun holiday, BUT I finally figured out where the photos from my phone were hiding on my computer. I couldn't just let them stay in the folder. So we went trick-or-treating on our street, which is the best trick-or-treating experience ever. Almost every house is decorated and some play spooky music and even offer spiked cider to the parents! Woo hoo! And when every house is only a couple of feet apart, the candy bag gets full in only a few blocks. Mimi went trick-or-treating with her new buddies Paige and Kara and our sweet little neighbor William. Kara is a very serious 4-year-old, so I couldn't stop giggling when she broke out into Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" several times on our walk.

Awwwwwww . . . .

Three lollipops at a time. That's how she rolls.

This Fall was much milder than last year's, so the Darby family spent a lot of time at the park, which is so much more fun now that Mack is walking. And climbing. And going down the super-fast slide head-first.

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A couple of weeks ago we went to Memphis . . .

. . . and were able to play with some sweet friends one morning. And this is what Libby and I found Mack and Ellis doing . . .
Boys, boys boys. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I love talking with friends who have a daughter first and then a son. EVERYONE seems to make the same comments -- the daughter is more independent and the sons are a little more clingy . . . but the boys are very destructive and wild.

But don't they look so sweet??

Dressed in their Sunday best in a church pew. And we were at this church for a very, very special occasion -- the rehearsal for the wedding of my brother-in-law Tyler and my sweet (like, beyond words sweet) new sister-in-law Beth. I love, love, love her. And I love, love, love them together. Tyler has always been more reserved and laid back (much more so than his brother who I happened to marry), but when he met Beth some spark was ignited -- in a very good way. After meeting her for the first time, I had no doubt that he would never bring home another girl. They are both incredibly awesome, and I'm excited to see how their relationship is going to grow over the years.

Clint and I were so honored that our children were asked to be a part of the wedding, but a little panic arose in me when I realized what this meant for me. Mimi was a part of a very small wedding a couple of years ago, but this was a whole new ballgame. My children plus their fun cousins was going to be, well, maybe a little more fun than I could handle. But it was fine and my parents came to help out (whew), and they truly did have a blast.

Little Mimi just couldn't understand why she wasn't the one getting married. She kept repeating, "But, Mommy, I want to get married. J.R., why won't you marry me?? We can stand up there with Beth and Tyler and then dance!! Pleeeeease!!" Like, to the point of tears. I have a video. One of Tyler's friends heard this and commented, "Wow, it really does start early in the girls."
The wedding was gorgeous -- like, brought me to tears several times gorgeous. The children performed their walking down the aisle duties beautifully, but of course the best part for them was the reception.

Even my mom joined in the fun. :)

When Tyler and Beth asked J.R. to be a part of the wedding, he immediately told them he wanted to wear a tuxedo and a mustache. He was dashing in the tuxedo . . . and I'm a little disappointed the mustache didn't come out until the reception.

Ahhh, the sweet first dance. But, wait, who are those two little party crashers??

I felt so bad that Mimi was trying her best to steal the spotlight during their first dance, but she caused much more of a scene whenever Clint and I tried to remove her. And all these ladies yelled at us to leave her alone, so whatever. And I did get to snap a few cute shots. :)

Mimi was so excited to see that her friend Emerson made it to the reception. They danced their little feet off and turned and twirled . . . and slept like angels that night for sure.

Mack lasted for a while, but when this little guy is ready to go to bed enough is enough.

Clint and I were so lucky to have my parents there to take the kids home to bed (well, my dad was the one who was ready to go to bed, honestly), so we were able to stay and have more fun than we should have had. The DJ was awesome, and I could kick myself for not getting a shot of Clint with the guitar. No, I'm not kidding. Their friends were too fun, and both families spent most of the night on the dance floor. What a joyous occasion!

And this photo has absolutely nothing to do with anything.

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There are things you do because they feel right and they may make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and say it was good.

-Brian Andreas

And one week later was Thanksgiving.

At my house.

With most of my family.

Yes, it was a lot of pressure on the youngest child to be able to unpack and clean and cook, but wasn't it about time? For years I've had everyone else waiting on me and helping out with my children, and I needed to repay. It started with my sister's family planning a weekend trip for her birthday . . . and then we hoped my brother in Ohio would be able to come . . . and then we couldn't all be here without my parents coming . . . and so it turned into a full-on Thanksgiving celebration. And it was awesome.

I attempted to make some new dishes -- Shrimp and Grits Dressing, Turkey with Bearnaise Butter, and Bacon, Pecan, Apple and Gorgonzola Salad with Cranberry Dressing -- along with a few staples -- Squash Casserole, Sweet Potato Crunch, and Green Beans.

Having most of my family at my home and being able to cook for them was a bit of a dream come true. I love the chaos of cramming too many people in a small space with a fire going and the smell of sauteed onions. One of the greatest parts of getting the family together is the children . . .

Mimi and Oriana . . . two peas :)

These two girls are only a few weeks apart in age but have been separated by many, many miles for the past couple of years, which has made getting together very difficult. I love how little ones don't seem to be concerned about the awkwardness of not knowing each other well, and they just jump right in and play.

"Oh, you like My Little Pony? So do I! And you like to dance to Katy Perry? Me, too!!" See, it's just too easy for them to love each other.

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And then everyone had to go home . . .

. . . so it's just Daddy and Mommy and Mimi and Mack once again.

Even though the snow hasn't arrived yet (where the heck is the white stuff anyway???), we are still looking for warm places to play. We finally visited Pickles Playroom, which is my FAVE without a doubt. We love the coziness of Family Grounds, and while Little Beans is amazing, it's just way too big for me to watch both of mine without losing one (or both) of them. But Pickles is just right for my little Goldilocks -- not too big and not too small. And my Pandora stations couldn't have played a better mix than what they had coming through the speakers. Coffee and Coldplay and Mat Kearney and the Killers and Counting Crows . . . oh my. AND a toddler-sized rock-climbing wall?? Seriously??

For those of you who have absolutely no clue what I'm talking about, this is an indoor playground/coffee house/cafe. Why are there none of these in the mid-south?? I mean, it is too hot to breathe in the summer and too cold and yuck in the winter to go to the playground. If you want to start a new business, fly to Chicago and check these places out and please, please, please invest in one in the south. Pickles even has a salon on one side with really cool chairs and small flat-screens playing Dora or Diego or whatever makes your little ones chill. Just put in a soft floor, buy an espresso machine, and stock up on a bunch of toys at Ikea. Seriously. Best idea. Ever.

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And this post just keeps on going and going . . .

. . . and this is where the pictures will have to stop (because they must). The beginning of the Christmas season for the Darby family starts with this . . .

A trip to our local Menard's and we came home this little green friend of ours. She's a little small, but I love her just the same . . . and so do my silly children who play with her lower branches just as much as they do their Fisher-Price Little People. But more of this later. Hopefully not much later :)

Fall, Pumpkin, Autumn, Harvest, Whatever

2011-11-17T16:36:00.012-06:00

I know, I know. It's been a while. I promised pumpkins and costumes and corn mazes and such, but every time you've opened the Darby blog for the past few weeks you've gotten the angry stop-being-such-assholes-Mississippi blog. That one took a lot out of me, and I had to regroup. I want to apologize to my 2 fans for not getting the Halloween photos up before Target put out their Christmas cards, but sometimes I guess I don't have my blogging priorities straight.

We just returned from a fantastic wedding weekend in Memphis a couple of days ago (I have a new sister-in-law, and she's really, really cool and from Chicago. Although she only lived here for, like, a few months, but that doesn't really matter), and it's high time I get a little more organized. By the way, Mimi is OBSESSED with the idea of weddings and getting married now. At the moment she has all of her Fisher-Price people and EI-EI's (of course, those are the farm animals) all lined up in a nice semi-circle, and she informed me that they are getting married so they can dance. Well, of course that's why people get married. She's got this all figured out.

In only a couple of days, my family will begin arriving in Chicago for Thanksgiving. No, you don't have to read that last line again. I am indeed hosting Thanksgiving this year. Yipee! And I'm not ordering take-out. I've flipped through the pages of my November Southern Living so much that I'm afraid it may fall apart soon, but I believe I have settled on some really fab recipes. I'm trying an all new line-up for the dinner, so fingers crossed that all the kids and my picky father will find something that is "fair." "Fair" is my father's word for "it's not as bad as rat poison." He used this word to describe Clint when he first met him, but now I'm pretty sure he is my dad's favorite son-in-law. I know my sister only looks at photos and never reads, so she'll have absolutely no idea that I've said that. My attempts at unpacking and cleaning and doing laundry have been futile -- which, by the way, I washed ALL of our dirty clothes the day before we left Chicago AND the day before we left Memphis, but somehow I still have, like, 3 loads of laundry. But I'll stop talking about housework because a very wise woman told my sister (who never reads my blog) that no one wants to hear about how many loads of laundry you've done this week. They want to hear about where you've been and what you've seen. So I guess I'll get started with the Autumn Harvest Pumpkin Extravaganza . . . otherwise known as October.

First of all, Mimi LOVES being in school. It's only 2 half days a week, but it's enough for her to bring home some really funny material. She talks about their daily "bathroom trip" and how they sing a song called "Scoot Against the Wall, Against the Wall" on their way to potty . . . and how she never uses the bathroom at school because it's scary (Great. She already has a public bathroom complex.). They sit criss-cross-applesauce during circle time and must yell things like "FALLLLLLL!" and "OCTOBERRRR!" and "TWO-POWSAN-UH-LEBBIN!!!" (which I think is what year it is) because this is the way she responds when I ask her questions. They have show-and-tell every day, which is fantastic for a little girl who loves to perform. Anywho, there was a fun Halloween party at her school, and of course it was a great photo-op.

By the way, I must give Mimi's costume credit to Amy Norris. You should totally stalk her blog because she's a lot funnier and more creative than I am. Which is why I stalk her so I can steal her really great ideas. I did ask her permission to be a copy cat, but I think I would have stolen the idea of cow pants with pink fringe regardless of getting her blessing. Amy, someone just needs to post YOU to Pinterest. Anyway, Mimi found this hideous pink pony costume for Halloween, which she decided she hated about 10 minutes after having it on her little self (check out the neglected thing on the floor), BUT she still wanted to be some type of cowgirl.

Catch a lion by the tail . . .

I'll have to say her little friend in the photo has probably the coolest Jessie costume ever -- I mean, red glitter boots and hat. How can we compete with that?

Face Painting by Miss Kelley. I think she should start a business. And her whole 80's fluorescent American Apparel get-up made me love her even more.

Mimi's favorite party activity -- painting a pumpkin with ridiculous amounts of red paint. Somehow that pumpkin made it's way to a really high shelf in her classroom and hopefully someone really smart has chunked it in the trash. And check out the Edward wanna-be sitting next to her. And my brave girl wasn't even frightened of him . . . even though I was a little.
Now I must back-track a little because, well, that is how I downloaded the photos, and I'm a little too lazy to put them in order. We finally visited Michigan, and, oh, I will be back. We drove along the southwest coast, and there are so many cute towns and beautiful views . . . and why have I never known about this? Whenever I think of Michigan, I think about those loud, obnoxious boys who go to PCB for spring break every year and Detroit. That's it. But now I have a beautiful view of Michigan . . . pretty beaches and boutiques and sand dunes and wineries and a really cool pumpkin patch.

Before we left, I tried my best to herd my kittens onto the couch for a matching-pumpkin-shirt-that-mommy-made-photo, but they had other plans. I have about ten shots of poses that are very similar to this one. And I totally came up with the pumpkin shirts on my own. Because no other mom has ever thought to sew an orange pumpkin onto her toddlers' t-shirts.
Awww . . . isn't he so cute? No, you can't have him. He's all mine. And maybe a little Clint's but mostly mine.

Okay, maybe he's half Clint, but I pretend he likes me more.

Hmm . . . which pumpkin goes best with my shirt????

Cute, cute, cute, cute cute. I'm so cute I can just lie on the ground and you'll still take my photo."Wa-HOO!! Yee-haw! Gitty-up, little buddy! Ride like the wind, Bull's Eye!" And she yelled these phrases NON-STOP while riding her little pony that went in circles.

As happy as a girl should be who's inside a giant plastic jack-o-lantern.

I had my camera ready as soon as I heard Mimi's voice at the end of the corn maze . . . but then there was no Mimi. I yelled for Clint to make sure everything was okay, and Mimi screamed to the top of her lungs, "WE'RE OKAY, MOMMY! BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE FINISHED!!!" She loves to be lost in the middle of tall corn, I suppose.

Surveying the maze.

My chirrens love some livestock.

Hmm . . . maybe this one matches better . . .

Phew. We're getting closer to the end. Finally on to Halloween.

I have decided that Mimi needs to become best friends with two little girls who live a couple of houses down the street. They're around her age and blonde and have a fun mom -- what else do they need in common? So we went to their house prior to trick-or-treating for a little pumpkin carving fun.

"Just give me an ice cream scoop and a pumpkin, and I'll show you a good time."

Sweet Little Lion Man.

Awww . . . you can't have this one either. Trust me -- I've tried to take him. He belongs to my sweet neighbor, and I kinda think she likes him.

I have a few other photos I took on my phone (because my camera died OF COURSE) of Mimi and her buddies trick-or-treating, but I can't seem to figure out where photos from my new phone are on the computer. Sigh. I think I've had enough photo fun for the night, and I need to get Miss Priss in the bed. So maybe next time I'll have wedding and Thanksgiving fun . . . or maybe another rant and rave session. Nah. Maybe not.

What Are You Going to Do about It?

2011-11-01T15:40:00.018-05:00

I'm going to warn you in advance. There is going to be a lot that I am going to say that will make you want to stick your fingers in your ears and scream LA LA LA LA LA at any time. I am NOT going to tell you how to vote. I am NOT going to tell you how I would vote or point you to an unbiased website (because honestly there isn't one that exists. Trust me -- I've searched). And I'm not going to point out my opinion on all the "what ifs" of abortion, morning-after pill, IVF, IUD's, and possible lawsuits. Not even going there. But I am going to challenge you . . . just keep reading and you'll see what I mean.

In case you've been living under a rock or you don't care to keep up with the news of my home state of Mississippi (really? You don't?), this is what is being voted on soon:

INITIATIVE MEASURE NO. 26

SUBJECT MATTER: Definition of “person"

BALLOT TITLE: Should the term “person” be defined to include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning, or the equivalent thereof?

BALLOT SUMMARY: Initiative #26 would amend the Mississippi Constitution to define the word “person” or “persons”, as those terms are used in Article III of the state constitution, to include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning, or the functional equivalent thereof.

Sigh. And the madness this question has started. What is a "person"?

Honestly, I don't care how you vote. Just do your research and listen to your heart. I no longer live there, so I'm sure you don't care to hear about how I would vote so I'll spare you. BUT I do still have something to say on the matter, and it is this . . .

STOP BEING SUCH ASSHOLES.

Whew.

There, I said it. Now I feel much better.

Part of my problem is me. I don't have a lot of free time to lie on the couch and space out, so my only time to remove myself from this world is to browse Facebook. Please, don't judge. I normally do it to see photos of my friends' adorable babies and puppies, but lately more and more people have been posting their opinions about this proposed amendment. It starts out very simple . . . "Hey, check out this link if you're still unsure about how to vote" . . . and then I read that the link says something like "The Lies of PRO-ABORTION Advocates" or "Why Mississippi is about to Make a HUGE Mistake," so I feel I MUST see the 104 comments that people have posted under this status . . . and then I stupidly get all hot and bothered by the mean, mean, mean and hateful comments people have made.

They usually go something like this:

"I can't believe people are afraid that if this passes a doctor can't help them if they have a tubal pregnancy. That's so SILLY AND RIDICULOUS."

"If you vote "yes," you obviously CAN'T THINK FOR YOURSELF and haven't done ANY research."

"It's never a woman's choice -- it's God's choice and the CHRISTIAN THING TO DO is vote 'yes'."

And the list goes on and on and on, so I won't bore you. Whether this thing passes or not there will still be HUGE problems to deal with. So this is where I need to open my big, fat mouth and challenge all of you big talkers who have been so finger-pointy and judgemental . . . what are you going to do about it?

If it doesn't pass, then things will stay the same. There will still be teen pregnancies and unwanted pregnancies and rape and incest and abortions.

If it does pass, things will stay, well, almost the same. There will still be teen pregnancies and unwanted pregnancies and rape and incest and abortions that are performed in surrounding states.

Let's be honest, changing a law will not change a person's heart. Changing the law will not make a selfish, career-oriented woman want to stop her "accidental" pregnancy. It will not make a 16-year-old who's scared out of her mind suddenly be excited about going shopping at Motherhood Maternity. It can't make the single mom of 4 whose boyfriend abuses her not want to bring another child into her situation. It will not make the confusion of a mentally challenged fourteen-year-old who was raped by her uncle go away.

Those who have the resources and money will just go to another state. Those who don't will have to deal with it, but more than likely those are the ones who are already dealing with it anyway.

You see, while you're sitting in your church pew feeling all holy and godly since you decided to cast a "yes," or feeling all intellectual debating at your water cooler about voting "no" these problems will still be going on around you. So, what are you going to do?

First of all, let's stop with all the judging. When I was in high school and when I taught high school, there were always SEVERAL pregnant girls. Some poor, some rich, some popular, and some with bad reputations. And these young girls marched in that school every day knowing that they would be stared at and talked about. But we all knew that at least half of the other students had done just exactly what these girls had, but still lots and lots of gossip and judging ensued. There were also "rumors" of girls who had abortions, and whether they had or had not there was still lots gossip and whispers of "baby killer" -- some behind their backs and some to their faces. Many more were ready to judge and gossip than to offer them kind words or a hug. If you know you're going to be judged, are you willing to open up and talk about your feelings? Uh, no. And neither are these girls and women who are struggling with a life-changing decision.

Instead of just being concerned about removing a morning-after pill or abortion, find a way to get involved with a place that offers guidance and counseling. Many towns and counties have women's resource centers already, and even if you can't volunteer I'm sure they always need money. If there isn't one in your area, find a way to get one started. Go to the mayor. Go to your local schools and churches. Figure out where the need is and if other women are willing to help. Make it SAFE and CONFIDENTIAL and OPEN-MINDED. Right now I'm sure Planned Parenthood and the abortion clinics offer better counseling than some of these meanies who are being all finger-pointy at "baby killers."

Here's a link to an organization called Ramah International, which lists many of the women's resource centers in Mississippi that offer pregnancy tests, pregnancy counseling, adoption options, post-abortion counseling, and other resources. http://www.ramahinternational.org/mississippi.html

Talk to kids about sex. They may stick their fingers in their ears and say LA LA LA LA LA (and then you may do the same) but actually start the conversation in an appropriate manner just as soon as you think they're mature enough (okay, this is going to be a huge challenge for me!). Don't just say that it's bad and God says you're not supposed to do it until you get married, but actually be open-minded and encourage them to join in the conversation. This was totally lacking when I lived in Mississippi. Parents and teachers were so scared to say anything but that it was bad and wrong and God said no, but the parents who were actually open had children who were smarter and made better decisions.

No matter how you look at this, the proposed amendment and the problems surrounding it are in no way simple or clear-cut. There will always be those extremists who will never vote against a woman's choice and those who will always vote against abortion even if the amendment forces teenagers to wear chastity belts. Save your breath -- those folks aren't budging.

Do I believe that those who are pouring their hearts and souls into passing this amendment and saving unborn babies are doing the right thing? I do.

Do I believe that people should be concerned about the lack of details concerning certain situations such as health risks and exceptions for mentally challenged? Sure do.

Sorry I can give no insight on how you should vote -- just call me if you really care to know, which I'm sure you don't. In the meantime, I'll try to stop reading all the garbage on FB and will figure out what I can do to help.

And I promise photos of Halloween costumes and a pumpkin patch next time and no more of this crap . . .

My Lil Kicker

2011-10-31T09:25:00.004-05:00

I didn't think anything could ever trump ballet . . . but we may have found our favorite Darby family activity.

Don't blink. You might miss her.

Taking a much needed rest after all that crazy running and kicking . . . and running to the water fountain five thousand times . . .

Listening intently to Coach Carlos. He's so cool.

Already in training for when he's eligible next season.

Loving on his favorite coach.

Practicing "kicking."

Ahhh, Autumn

2011-10-14T14:49:00.005-05:00

My absolute most favorite time of the year in Chicago has arrived . . .

. . . ahhhh.

Sixty degree days and chilly nights . . . yellow and orange trees . . . apple orchards and pumpkin patches . . .

. . . and this gorgeous view outside my window.

I squealed with delight like a schoolgirl when my October Southern Living arrived in the mail. Page after page of drop-dead gorgeous homes filled with pumpkins and dried leaves and gourds. It made me want to put on some boots and a scarf and watch a football game.

And the recipes. Wowzers. Every single page in the back half of the magazine has been dog-eared. Pecans and apples and soups and casseroles. Yum, yum, yumminess. So I started with the apple-pear with maple-pecan bacon salad with cranberry viaigrette. Bacon and maple syrup and pecans and pears and apples and grapes and gorgonzola. Yes, ma'am, it was amazing. The bacon is actually dipped in maple syrup, covered with pecans, and then baked. And I added some grilled chicken just for fun. My, my, my. Mouth watering yet?

The next night I moved to the other side of the page to Chicken Marsala with pecans. I made a side of gouda and garlic mashed potatoes and some leftover salad from the night before, and then my husband knew for sure he married the right woman :).

Tonight will be a fantastic Pioneer Woman (gosh, don't you love her?) chicken thigh recipe. The hubs is super-appreciative of anything I cook, but he has told me many times that I should try more chicken thighs than breasts. Breasts are just so easy -- I don't even know what to do with skin and bones -- but Ree may have changed my mind, so here it goes, Clint. I might get a diamond necklace after this one.

With a new season, comes a new sport. Mimi started a soccer class at Lil' Kickers (they don't really play games. Just a lot of fun drills and playing). Mimi kicks ass at soccer. She may not be the best -- well, she's not the best. There's a little boy in her class who plays like it's his job. He races down the field, high-fives his dad, and then returns to the start before the rest of the class has even gotten half-way finished. Anywho, she loves it and really seems to handle the ball well with her feet.

And she looks really, really cute in her uniform.

Chicago seems to go all-out with Halloween, and almost every home in our neighborhood is decorated with orange lights and spider webs and ghosts. This makes for a very long walk to wherever we're going because Mimi constantly yells, "Wait, Mommy! Go back! I need to see the ghosts and spiders! Spoo-ookie!" She LOVES being scared. She asks over and over again to watch an episode of Curious George where he is afraid of the dark, a Veggie Tales movie called Where is God When I'm Scared? (which she insists is called God's Scared), and an Olivia episode where Ian pretends to be a ghost. By the way, Olivia is my favorite TV show by far. She is so smart and independent and awesome.

I must give you a Halloween sneaker.

Rooooaaaarrrrrr!!!

Sweetest little lion. Ever.

Last year I pretended to be super-mom and made their costumes, and, well, that was just stupid, stupid, stupid. I didn't have the time or energy, and I decided this year would be different. While at Target one day, we walked down the costume aisles, and I let Mimi pick her costume all by herself. I tried to persuade her to be a fairy and Mack could be a gnome. Nope. What about the cute ice cream cone? Or the ladybug? Uh uh.

So what did she fall in love with? A pink pony with purple sparkle wings. Sigh. Not my first choice. Not even my twentieth choice, but whatevs. I'm sure Mimi rock as a flying pony.

And here's a little bit of brother and sister love. Sweet babies. Mack can totally climb up Mimi's little steps and onto her bed, and then they jump and squeal and throw off all the pillows and think it's awesome. And I just noticed that she is lying on a mini Pillow Pet that is a pink and purple unicorn . . . was this the inspiration for her Halloween costume??

As much as I love the changes that go along with this new season, my larynx does not. As of Wednesday night, I finally had a tiny bit of voice back just in time to see this . . .

That's right, homeys. SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Huge fan. HUGE. It was awesome, and my sister told me to use spirit fingers instead of squealing. He he.

And I think formal introductions are necessary. This is my sweet Lacy:

We at the Darby household love, love, love her. On our way home from the show, she and I discussed how I totally offered her a nanny position after speaking about 3 words to her on the phone. She responded with, "Don't you at least want to meet me first?" and I, a fly by the seat of my pants kinda girl, knew I probably needed someone like her. And later I learned she was also a big fan of SYTYCD, and I knew it was a match made in heaven.

So tonight we're having chicken thighs and tomorrow we're off to Michigan to explore a pumpkin patch and a winery. Pictures to come . . .

I'm Putting Myself in Time-Out

2011-10-06T16:53:00.018-05:00

I am going to blame it on my laryngitis. It's something I'm stricken with once every couple of years either in the early fall or spring, and my number must be up once again. I can't talk, so all I can do is be quiet and listen and think. Gosh, how boring.

Over the past few weeks I've felt like I've had way more discussions with friends who are thinking about having babies, thinking about having a second baby, or thinking about pulling their hair out from all of their babies they already have. While doing all this being quiet and thinking, I have been going over those conversations in my head and looking at baby pictures and reminiscing a lot about my time as a mommy . . . and I've been wondering if I could go back in time what I would have told myself about all this baby business a few years ago . . .

. . . and I think I would have jerked myself up by the ponytail and said this:

#1) Stop thinking about yourself so dang much. Get in the routine of doing for others. Take care of others first. Volunteer. Take dinner to a sick friend. Call your Mom more often.

#2) Stop complaining that I'm SOOO busy. Limit my TV time and start cooking dinner and working out. If I don't do it now, why do I think I'll do it when I have a baby?

#3) Laugh at myself. Don't take life so seriously. Stop gossiping. And quit worrying about not having enough money for those fabulous boots in both black and brown.

#4) Stop taking forever to get ready for work or a dinner. Limit washing my hair to every other day. Clean out my closet so I only have pieces that I feel fabulous in. Put my keys, sunglasses, and wallet in the same place every. single. day. Don't pack for a month when I'll only be gone for a weekend.

#5) Join an awesome Sunday School Class at a church that is focused on what's important. And make sure that Sunday School class has plenty of young couples who have started their own families.

#6) Make awesome friends who I can trust and rely on and who don't complain too much. I'll need these people to help me not go insane when I'm ready to call it quits. And learn to tune out the haters. If friends or family members are being critical now, just wait until they can unleash all their judging on me as a mother.

#7) Learn to REALLY communicate with my husband. What makes him tick? What does he need to feel loved? What do I need from him? What's really going on when he gets so dang mad about not being able to find his belt?

#8) Talk to God. A LOT. Ask him for absolutely everything and learn that I fail miserably when I stubbornly try to make decisions on my own. Don't get so overwhelmed. Have FAITH.

#9) Don't be disgusted at poots. They really are funny :).

But I couldn't write this list to myself before we had Mimi, so Clint and I just jumped in head-first like everyone else has to do who doesn't have a time machine. And we've worked hard and succeeded and failed and bickered and been exhausted and have had a heck of a lot of fun. But I still need to make sure I'm learning and trying and failing so that I can learn some more. We've recently reached a new milestone with Mimi being a preschooler and Mack being a toddler. Things have changed and I have to roll with it and constantly keep myself in check, but I haven't been exactly sure how to do what's best for my little stinkers.

Stinker #1

Stinker #2

A good friend recommended a book to me called Loving the Little Years: Motherhood in the Trenches by Rachel Jankovic, and it has completely changed my perspective. Stop rolling your eyes because I have probably already recommended you read this and I have talked about it, like, nonstop for the past few weeks. It was JUST what I needed. This chick is a mother of 5 small children all under the age of 6. Four of them are girls (imagine that house full of drama and hormones), and one is a set of twins. Just knowing that she has all of that going on and is still surviving enough to write a book should make most of us stop whining and complaining. She is a Christian, but I feel like really anyone who was raised with similar morals can take something away from this.

Anywho, get the book. The author is cute and funny and amazingly positive, and you'll want to highlight almost every single sentence. It's only about 100 pages and each chapter is only a few pages. I read it during a naptime and right before I went to sleep (which means I've been able to leave Mimi in bed by herself most nights! Woo hoo!). She's not preachy and condemning but is real and honest and doesn't claim to have all the answers. I promise you'll come out of it ready for a fresh start with a new perspective on what exactly it is we're supposed to be doing as parents.

So from this book and from talking to other moms and from trial and error, I have put myself in time-out to stop and reflect on this new list I created for myself:

#1) Quit complaining about not having "me time." I just had a convo with a new dad at Trader Joe's who has a 7-week-old. He was in total survival mode, and I could tell he was struggling from the way he was constantly rubbing his eyes to stay awake. He said he's a competitive cycler, and he hasn't even pulled out his bike since the baby has arrived. I wanted to say, "Dude, focus on the big picture. Just think about the first time he can ride on the back of the bike with you along the lakefront . . . and when you get to remove the training wheels from his Elmo bike and let him go by himself . . . and when he gets to race next to you one day." But all he needed to hear from me today was, "Don't worry. You will be able to do it again. You're in survival mode right now, and you'll be proud of yourself when you make it out of this stage alive." I've so been there. I've been so concerned about MY free time. When do I get to do things by myself again? Instead I need to find things I enjoy doing with my children. Taking them on a jog in the stroller . . . teaching them how to splash in the ocean waves . . . painting Mimi's fingernails while doing my own . . . and before I know it spending time with them becomes a lot more fun than spending time by myself.

#2) Speaking of survival mode -- it's okay to do this occasionally. We're rushing from a doctor's appointment to ballet to the grocery store, and somewhere along the way I need to fit in some lunch and naps. I will not beat myself up if I have to hit the drive-thru at McDonald's and Mack's nap is later that day. If guests are coming over and nothing is keeping the kids occupied so I can cook and clean, then I can't feel guilty about pulling out a Costco frozen pasta and pre-made salad and quickly Swiffering around the edges. I mean, who needs a friend who will look under the couch for dust-bunnies anyway?

#3) I can't stay in "survival mode." Although that is basically what everyone does during the beginning and certain transitional times, I have to realize that being a SAHM is my life now, and I must give it my all. The house does need a good scrubbing every now and then. I need to shower and put on make-up and matching clothes. I should cook healthy meals. I must put all that folded laundry away. And most of all, I need to make time to sit in the floor with the children and let them throw all the pillows off the bed and dump everything out of the toy bins and sing and dance and giggle.

#4) Remember that this is supposed to be fun. There was a mom at soccer last week who was begging and pleading and bribing and coaxing and guilt-tripping and all-out demanding that her child get out on that soccer field RIGHT NOW and HAVE FUN. Meanwhile, the little girl was in her own world twirling her hair and trying to find absolutely anything she could do other than getting on that soccer field. I'm not judging the mom because who knows what kind of day the two of them had had or what other issues have arisen at soccer each week, but I hated to see that it all ended with the mom whisper-yelling how she'd had enough and they could just go home. Then she stomped out of the building while the completely unaffected little girl skipped behind her. And all I could think was, Oh my goodness, so that's what I look like when I do that. Well, I haven't exactly done that, but I sure have let Mimi know how disappointed I have been in her when she hasn't willingly done the things I've wanted her to do. And guess what. Totally doesn't phase her. And I'm glad it doesn't. She shouldn't be doing these things to please me. There is a huge difference in doing what is "right" and just doing something that I think is right. So I can encourage and expose them to what I think is fun . . . but I need to make dang sure I'm paying attention to what she and Mack want to do for fun.

#5) Respect versus etiquette. Last night we had a new babysitter who responded to a question I asked her with, "Yes, ma'am." Oh my goodness. I can't recall the last time someone has said that to me, and I found her response with her sweet Texas accent to be so lovely. But I could tell she used this phrase genuinely and honestly with respect. When I taught high school English a million years ago in a small town in Mississippi, I noticed that some parents completely freaked out if their children didn't respond with, "Yes, ma'am" or "No, sir" or "please and thank you" to the point of being ridiculous. I had a couple of mischievous ninth grade boys who were very good at using these magic words when they were in trouble, and finally one day I'd had enough. They were selfishly disrupting the class the day before exams, and as soon as I called them outside they both started with their "yes, ma'am" crap. I asked them to NEVER use those mocking and disrespectful words to me again, and I explained that it doesn't mean anything if it isn't said with respect. They obviously didn't respect me or their classmates, and I wish that they had learned how to do that rather than recite that meaningless word. While I do occasionally ask Mimi to use "ma'am" or "sir," I haven't cared too much about hen-pecking my children to always say this, but I care a heck of a lot about my children being grateful and unselfish and loving.

#6) Be ready for change. What worked a few months ago for keeping them occupied while I do laundry might not work anymore. While Mimi may have always been a fantastic eater, she is suddenly eating sporadically -- very little at one meal and an extreme amount at another. Time outs worked well last week but not so much this week. Mack has discovered how to climb on beds and up stairs. My methods must change and I have to be okay with Plan B. Or C. Or D.

#7) Save the yelling (this doesn't really work anyway with laryngitis!). A few months ago my house could fall to crap at any given second. Mack had begun teething, Mimi was being a really terrible two-year-old, and Ruthie barked her head off at everything that moved. I was still trying to figure out how to function being at home all day, and I lost it waaaay too much. And guess what? Little ones become immune to that. And they even learn to yell back and yell at each other. Uh oh. I knew that if I didn't stop soon yelling would become a way of life, and I'd make a complete A-double-S out of myself in public over Mimi kicking off a shoe. So now I'm forbidding myself from yelling unless Mimi is running out into the street or she's choking her brother until his face turns blue or Mack is about to grab scissors or a hot stove. If I freak out, so will my children. They need to learn how to calmly deal with problems by watching my example.

#8) Make sure I'm disciplining my children when they are sinning and not when they are just getting on my nerves. Are they being selfish and jealous and mean? Or are they just squealing too loudly while I'm trying to watch Friday Night Lights? Am I pointing out why we should share the blocks with our friends or am I just yelling and humiliating them? I remember being silly with a couple of other little girls in the ice cream line during snack time when a teacher smacked us all on the bottom and called us "disobedient little girls." We were all completely humiliated, and I found myself being very withdrawn and frightened around this teacher after that incident. I wasn't a bad kid, so I went over and over this moment in my mind trying to figure out exactly what we did that was so wrong. There wasn't a rule about not talking in line, so was it wrong to giggle? I know you think I'm crazy for remembering this, but kids do remember times like this. Children need to be children. Silly and loud and wild . . . but also kind and gracious and loving. Also, I need to realize when the real problem is all my fault. Did I forget snacks for my irritable, starving children? Did I really think I could buy groceries for the week during naptime?

#9) I need to let my children know my expectations. There have been total meltdowns in Target and at the park and in restaurants . . . and I kept going back with the kids and doing the same thing but expecting better results. Eventually I started telling Mimi, "We're going to the park, but we can't get any ice cream this afternoon because we will soon eat dinner with Daddy. Also, I need you to climb in the stroller when it's time to go because Daddy will be excited to see us." I asked her to agree with me and repeat this so I knew she heard me, and then I reminded her once again when we got to the park. And guess what? It usually worked. Also, I've learned to practice good behaviors with my children before expecting them to actually "be good." One sort of scary thing about living in the city is all the traffic, but I knew Mimi had to learn to walk next to me on the sidewalk and stop at all alleys and streets. I've seen some of her friends doing it, so we slowly let her walk short distances with us. And each time she did well she was allowed just a tiny bit more freedom to stop and pick up stick and rocks and point out dog poop and tell me how yucky that was.

#10) Let my children help. There was a family I babysat for some who had two small children and a girl who was about 8 or 9. When it was time for me to feed them dinner or get them ready for bed, I always asked the oldest one to help out by giving her simple tasks like clearing the table, brushing their hair, or drying them after their bath, and she was happy to do so. Whenever I let the parents know that she was always a great help, they seemed so surprised. The mom told me that she never even asked the daughter to help because she thought the girl would do it wrong and it was easier to just do it herself. I have to constantly remind myself now that Mimi can do more than I think she can -- I just have to guide her a little. And be patient with her while she's learning. I give her hand towels to fold when I'm putting away laundry. I give her plastic dishes to dry when I'm unloading the dishwasher. I ask her to take off her shoes and put them by the door when we get home. I let her stir and pour in some ingredients when we cook together. And there is usually a mess and Mack gets in the middle of it and I have to do it over. And each time I ask her she will get better.

So I'm jerking myself up by the ponytail and vowing to be a better mommy. I will fail daily and it won't be easy, but here it goes. I'll let you know how I do. :)

Go Home

2011-10-05T15:14:00.007-05:00

. . . goes to visit his mummy . . . she feeds him well, his concerns he forgets them . . . and remembers being small . . . playing under the table and dreaming . . .

I consider myself very blessed to be able to go home. My first home. My real home. The place that my parents brought me to from the hospital. The place where I snuggled in my father's lap while sucking my thumb and holding my pink worn blanket. The place where I watched ants building their dirt fortresses and collected pine cones and jumped in mud puddles. The place where we always had puppies and stray cats and an occasional deer or fox in the yard. The place where I know there will always be plenty of comfort food and hugs and where almost nothing has changed.

If you have it, don't take it for granted. Being in Chicago has taught me so much about myself, and one of those things is that I grew up in a damn fine home. It wasn't the biggest or the nicest, but it was my safe place. And I've been craving it for a while now. I've dreamed of pulling up the beat-up driveway, seeing the old trees and Dad's garden, walking into a kitchen that always smells like freshly-baked brownies and cooked vegetables, and flipping through our local paper. Luckily, I was able to spend a few days there this past weekend, and all I've gotta say is that it was about time.

I grew up in the country outside of Corinth, Mississippi, which has to be the complete opposite of my current neighborhood. I loved that when I pulled up the hill that leads to my parents' home Mimi said, "Oh, Mommy, it's a park!" because she assumes all wide-open spaces must be some sort of park. Well, I guess a huge yard with lots of room to roam is a fantastic playground for Mimi and Mack. Here's one of the "rides" at the park:

And another one. How cool is my dad on the old blue tractor?

This one is getting framed, like, real big.

My fuzzy-headed child who hates to put anything in her hair fell in love with a knitted headband I bought for her for this winter, and she wouldn't take it off. Whatever, Meemers.Just give her brown hair, and that could have been me about 29 years ago. I sat on this driveway and collected sticks and rocks and frogs and sorted them out just like she was doing.

But she had a really cool butterfly catcher that she quickly turned into a leaf and rock catcher.

"Oh, Mommy. The horsey is so hungry."

There were so many things that I had to relearn about being back in my small town. First of all, I had to figure out how to use the freaking bright lights on my car. Honestly, I've never had to use them. But there were no street lights once I left the city limits, and I now realize why my parents never wanted me to drive home late on our dark and windy road. Yikes. I also had to figure out how to sleep when it was completely quiet. I can always hear the bus outside our window or a car bumping music or an ambulance siren. Always. But at my parents' home it was so quiet that I could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen on the other end of the house.

I also had to get used to the gossip. And not necessarily bad gossip, but I had to remember how everybody knows everything about everybody. In a small town it is impossible to meet someone without being asked, "Where did you go to school? Who are your parents and siblings? Where did you go to church? Who did you run around with in high school?" People don't always mean to, but they are totally sizing up the victim. With those simple questions, one can learn another person's social status, income, morals, and basically whether that person is worth knowing or not. And I didn't need to let it get to me because it's customary, so I played along. Luckily for me, I have a pretty decent track record. :)

One nice thing about being in this small town was that I didn't have to fear for my life (or a ticket) every time I had to take a left turn. There was absolutely no traffic. The scariest thing about this town was the new turnabout by the elementary school. That's another fun thing. Someone here could say "the new elementary school" and everyone knows which one he's talking about. Or he owns "the downtown dry cleaners," or he goes to "the Presbyterian church."

Mom and I took the kids to Borroum's Drug Store (oldest and cutest drug store in Mississippi!) for lunch one day, and a few young guys walked in the door who looked like they had come straight out of the fields. They were tan and sporting jeans and work boots, and one of them turned to a lady who walked in after them and said, "Didn't I jest see you -- are you a' fallerin' me?" I completely melted. He may have had Skoal in his back pocket and you know the bed of his truck was full of beer cans and trash, but, my word, he was awfully charming. I can't quite say the same about a guy with a Midwestern accent . . .

A highlight of my trip was going to Hog Wild barbecue festival with a friend I've had since I was in first grade -- although there were some years we didn't speak because of a little disagreement on the playground where I attempted to cuss a lot and it just all came out wrong. Anyway, this consisted of fair rides around the square, some live music, and lots of barbecue and beer. It was a little strange to be back here and realize that I knew absolutely no one, and the few people I did know I had to take a second glance at because I haven't seen them in so long. And I love how they are lawyers and aldermen and dance teachers and policemen and accountants. How fun that we're all grown up with mortgages and children.

The main reason we took a trip back to the South was for a couple of parties for my newly engaged brother-in-law and his adorable fiance'. Her family is amazing, their friends are awesome, and I couldn't be happier for the sweet couple. By the way, this might be the coolest wedding around, so I will for sure have my camera handy for the big weekend.

The kiddos got to spend some quality cousin time while in Memphis. Ain't nothing but T-R-O-U-B-L-E in this wagon.

We're going to have to watch out for these two. As Clint told his mom, Mack does nothing but eat, sleep, and destroy . . .

Forward, MARCH, Mimi!

My Happy Place

2011-10-05T14:37:00.006-05:00

Santa Rosa Beach, Florida.

Gorgeous white beaches.

Perfect weather.

FABULOUS food.

And without a doubt my favorite place to go when I need to just go away.

I think there are a few others who agree with me . . .

Little Miss Preschool

2011-09-06T19:25:00.003-05:00

Here she is, ladies and gentleman, contestant #1 . . .

little Mimi "Firecracker" Darby.

And now she's performing her talent -- sitting criss-cross applesauce. Whoa, and I don't think anyone was ready for this . . . she's invented a new way to sit in circle time. She calls it the "Butterfly."

Now for the interview portion of the contest. Mimi Darby, how old are you?

Uh oh, she seems to be struggling a bit with the question. Let's see if she'll make it through this one.

She's counting her fingers and trying again.

But wait! She's suddenly broken into her rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider!" I don't think anyone expected that move. She's wowed the judges with this one, folks!

Now let's have a rundown of how she has done so far:

-She only asked Mommy to stay with her one time but then quickly ran away when she discovered some puzzles.

-Mimi might be in the running for the Miss Hospitality award as she made it a point to ask everyone what they were wearing or playing with.

-There might be a penalty because she was put in time-out once for not sitting quietly and flailing her legs during circle time (AKA, kicking her new friends), BUT the judges are still deliberating since she claims she was only trying to show everyone a new dance.

-When Mommy and Mack arrived in her classroom, she immediately took us to the carpet to show us how one is to behave during Show and Tell, which will definitely give her extra points for showmanship.

The judges have finally tallied their scores, and the winner for the First Day of Preschooler who Had Absolutely So Much Fun That She Couldn't Stop Talking about It Until We Got Home and Then Took the Best Nap Ever goes to . . .

MIMI!!!!

And her Mommy couldn't be prouder :)

Surprises

2011-09-05T16:20:00.009-05:00

I completely surprise myself sometimes with the decisions I make. For example, I love tuna melts now. My mom always made tuna salad sandwiches for me as a child which consisted of canned tuna, mayonnaise, boiled eggs, mayonnaise, pickles, and, you guessed it, more mayonnaise. And I loved them but then got burned out. Now I love it once again. Just not with so much mayo. Also, I am a stay-at-home mom. Never thought I would enjoy it, BUT I'm about to have a phone convo with a dear friend who has just pronounced herself a "high-maintenance, self-centered diva" and fully plan to convert her to selfless wannabe mom. Becoming a mom was absolutely the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I'm on a mission to convert the world of women. Also, I no longer rock heels. Nope. They just don't work at the park or while making PB&J sandwiches in the kitchen. I wear flip flops and tennis shoes and flat boots (albeit very cool flat boots).

And speaking of shoes, Clint and I made a trip to Nordstrom's (Clint is so going to make fun of me -- yes, I know it is called "Nordstrom." He thinks adding the " 's" to a business is like saying "Walmart's") this morning while dear, sweet Lacy watched our babies -- that is, after I jogged an entire mile with her this morning. Yet again, completely surprising myself. I hate running, but I just might let her talk me into running a Thanksgiving 5K with her. Anyway, my first thought when we decided to shop was that my children need Fall jackets and new shoes because shopping for myself is the last thing that comes to mind these days.

Okay, I must digress for just a moment. I recently saw a segment on the Today show where a stylist recommended getting rid of 75% of the contents of a closet. No, I didn't stutter -- 75%. So, I attempted and maybe got rid of 50%, and, holy moley, it really is easier for me to find something to wear. Not that I'm crazy about the contents of my closet, and I think I can still get rid of a lot more. For those of you who for some reason are still holding on to clothes from college and you know that you wouldn't give that cheetah print furry jacket to even your worst enemy, puh-lease for your own sake, get rid of it. Especially if you've been pregnant for the last 4 years like I have and you don't buy new clothes for almost a year at a time, then I KNOW you have some junk in your closet.

Okay, back to kiddos and shoes and surprises. I always assumed my children would wear Keds. I wore Keds, my parents wore Keds, and all of my friends in the South put their children in Keds -- boys and girls -- because they match absolutely everything. They go with play clothes and smocked dresses and John-Johns, so why not? I'll tell you why not. Because white shoes are an absolute nightmare. I'm trying my best to never buy anything white for Mack Darby again because he is magnetically attracted to any type of water, mud puddle, or food. And Mimi isn't much different. I was absolutely drooling at the awesome shoe selection at Nordstrom (can you say Prada ballet flats for $225 for toddlers? No, thank you), and Clint and I finally made some decisions. I am declaring my children officially the coolest kids in the world simply because of these shoes:

Yes, electric blue and orange Adidas for Mack and silver sparkle Toms for Mimi. And Mimi starts preschool tomorrow, and I am quite shocked I do not have a smocked outfit laid out for her. Nope, the above is a possibility or maybe a tutu. She hasn't quite made up her mind yet.

Speaking of Mimi, I wanted to give an update on the nap situation. I decided to NOT do away with them. Girlfriend needs them, and I am going to try to put up the fight as long as I can. I've gotten a few awesome suggestions, and I plan on trying them out a little over the next week to see if anything works. I'm still a little concerned about giving her melatonin just because the word "hormone" throws up a red flag for me, but I know many pediatricians are recommending it. Not completely crossing it off my list yet. Right now she's sound asleep in the den floor, and I'm trying to get used to the idea that she just doesn't love a forced, scheduled nap -- she prefers to sleep when she's tired. Which I guess does make sense. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my blog and sympathizing and letting me know I'm not the only mom who is dealing with the same issue. I mainly started this blog because of peer pressure from a dear friend, and I'm not sure I've thanked her yet. It has not only helped me let my far-away family know what's going on with my children, but it has also allowed me to vent and get awesome feedback from some of you -- people I've known forever and some I don't really know at all. I loved that I attended a wedding in Clint's home town this past spring, and several people I have only met a couple of times gave me comments and suggestions about things they had read on my blog. Too sweet. Tears.

So anyway, I think Mack surprised himself a little this week with discovering the slide.

On your mark . . .

Get set . . .

GO!!!!

We FINALLY took the kids to a beach on Lake Michigan. We've lived here over a year, and I'm not sure why this didn't happen until yesterday. We literally got in the car just to drive to a different neighborhood to grab lunch and ended up in Evanston, which I am in love with. If, and this is a HUGE "if," we ever move to the 'burbs, I think I will choose Evanston. And, yes, my children loved the beach. Mimi ran and rolled around and made sand angels, and little Mack begged for us to take him to the water so he could feel the cold waves hitting his toes. So excited about our trip to 30A later this week I can't stand it.
And this is soooo random, but I've also surprised myself with cooking this year. I don't like to prepare food, and I absolutely despise cleaning it up . . . but I do love to eat it! If you have a reservation booked at Hotel Darby, just know that the chef serves these for breakfast . . .

. . .banana pancakes . . . mmmmmmmmm.

Yesterday we had a Darby family banana pancake and James Brown breakfast. And because I'm a four-year-old, I like mine with walnuts and chocolate chips.

It's a strange family tradition of mine to also put a dab of peanut butter on your plate while eating pancakes, but it grosses my hubs out so I refrained. But I think it might have improved my quality of life if I had.

You have to put the chocolate chips on immediately after taking the pancakes off the stove so they'll get all gooey and melty. And bacon is a must. Are you drooling . . . because you should be.

Just because they were on my camera . . . my two favorite guys. And I once thought boys were gross . . . see, I'm full of surprises today.

Night-Night

2011-09-03T19:59:00.006-05:00

I must write about this moment before I forget it. It's nothing unusual, but I want to remember this little time at night that I share with Mack. Sometimes I will try to think back to specific sweet moments with Mimi, and I realize that most of the moments I remember are those that I photographed. Fearful that one day I will not be able to pull up a true memory of the way my children were without that moment being one I captured with a photograph, I am grateful we decided to splurge on a quality camera last summer. But this blog is also helping me with those memories, so here is one that I want to make sure I record.

Tonight I went through my normal "night-night" routine with Mack of giving him some milk and putting him to bed. I have become selfish with this time and rarely ask Clint to help with this, and tonight was no different. Sometimes after drinking his milk, Mack will squirm and wiggle and arch his back and point toward his crib. I'm happy on those nights that he makes it so easy for me to let him go, but I'm so sad that he doesn't want to allow me to hold him longer. Tonight he allowed me to hang on a few more minutes.

After finishing his milk, he handed his Toy Story sippy cup to me, gave me a quick look, and then nuzzled his fuzzy blonde head in my shoulder. He made a few little grunts and sighs and then quickly threw back his big noggin and almost gave me a nice head-butt if I hadn't been ready to move out of the way. He giggled and then threw back his head again for me to catch . . . and then forward . . . and then back again until he giggled so much he could barely catch his breath. With his little soft hands placed on both of my cheeks he intensely stared into my eyes, and then as soon as he spotted what he was looking for he turned my head to the left and began to inspect. You see, he is absolutely obsessed with the pearl earrings I wear every day. Clint gave them to me a couple of years ago for my birthday, and I love that Mack hunts for them every night. He pointed at it and twisted it and then without warning he placed his hands on my face again and quickly twisted my head to the other side to search for the other one. While he was doing this he began rubbing my cheek and sang "aaaahhhh," and as I was about to completely turn to a pile of goo from all this sweetness he put his face about 1/2 inch away from mine, turned up the corners of his sweet little mouth to grin, and then . . .

BUUUURRRPPPPP . . . right in my face.

And then he belted out his biggest belly laugh of the day. Sigh. And, yes, this is the special time I want to remember. My little Bubby's silly sense of humor . . .

To Nap or Not to Nap . . .

2011-09-01T21:10:00.006-05:00

. . . that is the question.

It is 9:00 at night, and for the first time in about 6 months both of my children are asleep . . . but this has come at a cost: almost losing my sanity.

Mack has absolutely no problem falling asleep. I need to run some errands in the middle of the day, and he'll take a short morning nap and an afternoon one. We have things to do in the morning, so he has no issue waiting until after lunch and taking a long afternoon nap. Around 6:30-7:00 at night he gets a little fussy and will even point up the stairs, which means, "Take me to my crib, please." All I need to do is give him a little milk, turn out the light, and put him in his crib.

At this age Mimi wasn't much different. She easily transitioned to one nap and even slept on a mat when she changed day cares at 12 months old. Around 18 months it took a little longer to get her down for a nap on the weekends, but she still quickly fell asleep at night. Around 2-years-old it took a little longer to get her settled for a nap, but still it was nothing to complain about. BUT since she was 2 1/2 and moved to a big bed, I have been very close to losing my mind. She began rebelling at both naptime and bedtime, and I tried every trick I knew. The "Supernanny take them back to bed and not say anything" routine. On the show this one solves the problem in a couple of nights. We tried it for a couple of months, and we were taking her back to bed until 11:30 some nights. We tried to take away a toy each time she got up (she sleeps with about 20 of her favorite stuffed animals), and we tried to reward her with one when she stayed in bed. We've been turning off the lights and television and giving her milk and a boring story. We've discussed how we need our rest because we have a "big day" planned for the following morning. I've shortened her naps to just an hour in the afternoon, but she wakes up extremely fussy and still won't go to bed any earlier at night. It's been suggested to just lock the door and let her cry it out, but they are French doors with no lock. Baby gates wouldn't work either because of the way the doors open out into the den. Sigh . . .

I talked with a pediatrician about this issue, and she suggested all of the above. When I told her how all of those methods have failed -- my kid's too damn smart and we're too damn stupid -- she said, "Why don't you just lie down with her until she falls asleep. She will eventually grow out of this, and that's some really sweet time you'll never have again." She was right, and so that is what we have been doing. It has definitely kept her in the bed . . . but it has also kept us in her bed. I'm usually so exhausted that I probably fall asleep before she does and then stumble up to bed around 2:00 AM. Clint does the same but usually stays there all night because he's such a heavy sleeper.

If you're paying attention you'll notice that this leaves absolutely no time for Clint and me to hang out. As soon as he gets home from work and changes into casual clothes, it's normally time to put Mack to bed, eat dinner, and then clean the kitchen. We might spend a little bit of time discussing bills, his job, my day with the kids, or talking with family on Skype, and then it is time to begin the bedtime ritual with Mimi. The only way Clint and I ever have a real conversation is when we get a sitter, and that ain't cheap. I would absolutely love to have a night to sit on the couch and watch and episode of Friday Night Lights with him and no children climbing on me, but that hasn't been possible. I also talk with other moms who have side hobbies, and I ask when in the world they have time. They all respond, "During naptime and after they go to bed." Naptime is the only time I have to clean the house and take care of other business, so I am so ready to have that "after bedtime" time that everyone seems to love. I know people who have all their children in bed by 8:00, which gives them a solid 2 1/2 hours to do whatever it is they want to do. For the record, I hate you.

Something had to give, so today I conducted an experiment. There would be no nap for Mimi. We had to run errands this morning, so I put Mack down for his one long nap after lunch. Normally Mimi plays in the den while I eat and clean up their lunch and then together (at least I try to get her to help) we clean up the den before her nap. Today I let her continue playing quietly while I unloaded the dishwasher and began working on laundry. I thought maybe this was going to be a great idea because she can entertain herself pretty well. Around the time we normally go to her room for a nap, I brought a couple of books to the den and decided this would begin her new "quiet time." She was nice and calm during the books, and then something happened. I think it was her second wind because she suddenly had a surge of energy and began squealing and jumping around the room. I returned a couple of phone calls (I usually don't talk on the phone during this time because I'm afraid I'll wake up Mimi) and she yelled and screamed and whined the entire time I was trying to have a conversation. I took her to her room and pulled out some of her favorite toys and explained that she would have "quiet time" in her room instead of a nap today. She didn't like this idea and wanted me to stay with her and play. I told her Mommy really needed a few minutes by herself to regroup and fold laundry, but that was out of the question for her. She ran to the den and threw all the clothes in the air and acted like a crazy hyena, and I swear I thought I was going to jump out of the window. I put the laundry away and moved her to her room again, and this worked for just a little while. Not long after this Mack woke up, and I was so happy because that meant I could get my crazy self out of this house.

We went on a walk and to the park, and, my gosh, I should have never taken that child out in public. She was okay for a little while, but she kept taking buckets of water from the splash pad and dumping it in the dirt to make mud, and she ran away from me screaming when I tried to wash the mud off her legs. She pestered the ice cream man and cried for both me and him to give her some Bugs Bunny popsicles. And I can't even bear to write about the show she put on when I tried to get her in the stroller. Let's just say my back will be hurting for a long, long time. When we got home and I began running the bathwater, she ran away from both Clint and me and fussed and whined, and Clint's first question was, "Has she had a nap today?"

But at 8:15 when I told her we needed to get ready for bed, Mimi responded with, "Okay, Mommy," and there was no drama. No kicking or screaming or running away or flailing of her arms and legs. We brushed her teeth, used the potty, read a book, and turned out the lights. I still stayed in her room until she was asleep, but this whole process was over by 8:45.

I guess now I need to pick my poison. To make her nap or to not make her nap . . . how do I know when it's time to drop the nap? Will the crazy 5:00-7:00 drama continue if she doesn't nap, or will she get adjusted? For the last few months I (and sometimes Clint) have spent almost 2 to 3 hours of each day trying to get her to fall asleep at naptime and bedtime, and I have to find a way to put an end to this.

Today one of my friends I was attempting to have a conversation with on the phone through all the fussing and whining told me that a pediatrician recommended giving her sleepless child melatonin, which is a naturally-occurring hormone that helps regulate sleep cycles. Anyone know anything about this or used it with your children?

Since I have just a little time before I crash, I think I need to pull up Netflix and catch up on the Dillon Panthers . . .

Boy Wonder

2011-08-30T15:00:00.017-05:00

On August 23, 2010, this sweetness came into the world . . .

. . . a little guy at 6 pounds and 8 ounces . . . but big enough to change our lives forever.

And then on August 23, 2011, this happened . . .

Did you blink? Because you may have missed something if you did. The swaddling and cooing and sweet little gowns are all gone. There's no more bassinet and the bottles have been put away. No more Bumbo chair, no more lamb swing, and no more exersaucer cluttering the den. There's no homemade baby food in the refrigerator and no more frozen packets of milk in the freezer.

Wilson McLain Darby has turned a year old, and he is no longer a tiny little baby. I have to admit that this is quite bittersweet for his mommy. What is it about boys that is so different from girls? I can't quite put my finger on how to explain what I feel for this little guy. He seems to trust me and rely on me a little more than Mimi did. He needs to be snuggled longer and for me to be more patient with taking away the bottle and the pacifier. He wants to go to bed earlier at night and begs for two naps during the day. And I am more than happy to oblige.

This little guy has stolen my heart and he and his sister bring more joy to my life than I could have ever imagined. I'm happy to take care of them and watch them play and learn and grow each day, and there isn't much (except the occasional date night with their father who I rarely get to spend any time with) that I think could make me more content.

Mack's first year has flown by much more quickly than his sister's. There is a good chance that he is my last baby, so I have tried to hang onto every moment for dear life . . . but I have no control over time. He did everything before I was ready -- he slept through the night, sat up, crawled, ate solid food, climbed the stairs, and grew faster than I wanted him to do. I think all of these things occurred at a normal age, but it was all too soon for me. Not once can I remember saying, "Things will be easier when he starts to _____." Nope, I wanted to keep each moment as long as I could.

He started out as a sweet, relaxed baby who was easy to please. His smile and laughter have been contagious from the beginning, and I assumed he would be my easy child. BUT he has proven me wrong and turned into quite a wild little monster. He is only taking a step or two at a time, but that isn't slowing him down. This is what happens when I turn my head:

He's infatuated with the remote controls and knows we keep them on this little table.

Not like that stops him or anything.

This is why I can do absolutely nothing in the kitchen and have boycotted cooking for a while (that is until the Crock Pot Girls reminded me of my slow cooker that has actually been getting some use this week). He knows how to push down the "child-proof" levers to open the cabinets under the sink also.
I know that whenever I hear Mimi saying, "Go Macky! You can do it! Don't worry, Mommy. I helping him," that I need to be extremely worried. Thankfully my camera was on hand and I snapped a blurry shot of them racing -- the kid flies up stairs. Yikes. And, yes,we have pulled out the baby gate now.

He likes to climb in the bottom of this table and hang out.

Just a list of a few things to remember about my little Bubby at age 1:

1. He eats anything and everything. Kiwi, mango, peanut butter sandwiches, bacon, and anything else we throw in front of him. His favorite is fruit -- watermelon, grapes, strawberries, and bananas. He hates Puffs. Although he will eat peas, he loves to pretend his hands are windshield wipers and sweeps them off his tray while squealing with delight. Honestly, I would do the same thing with peas if someone tried to make me eat them.

2. As of this past Sunday, the bottle is gone. I've been trying to transition to a sippy cup for months, but he would only take a sip and hurl it across the room. He would sip on them a little during meal time, but refused to replace his "bottle times" with them. I've tried at least 6 different types of cups and someone finally suggested the cheap take and toss ones. They worked like a charm. But I am still warming his milk just a little . . . I know, I know . . .

Mimi giving him one of his last bottles. Yes, they giggled the entire time.

3. We still have the pacifier, but he only gets it at naptime and bedtime. As soon as I enter his room, he smiles at me and throws it across the room. He doesn't always get it at naptime, so I don't think it will be too difficult to take away . . . but I'm not in a big hurry to see it go.

4. He crawls like a maniac. If we're at the park, he will actually crawl on his hands and feet to avoid hurting his knees. One little boy commented that he looked like a spider monkey :). He took his first step a couple of days before his birthday, but since my mom was the only one who witnessed it I didn't think it should count. I got to see his next step a few days later, and, oh my goodness, he was so proud of himself. The most he has worked up to is a side step and then forward, but he's in no hurry because he crawls so quickly.

5. He has seriously strong lungs and screams so loudly that people stop what they're doing to make sure we aren't killing him. And he does this out of joy. As my neighbor recently put it, "It sounds like someone is pulling out his toenails," and it indeed does. We were recently at a neighborhood restaurant, and he was having a grand time and squealing his little blonde head off. The mean old bats at the table behind us kept giving us the stink eye and shaking their heads, so as I was leaving I looked them in the eye and said, "Oh my, is everything okay?" Believe it or not, they actually turned away. They were just jealous that their table wasn't as fun as ours.

6. He has a few words: Muhma -- Momma. Dada -- Daddy. Aye -- Hi. Buh-buh -- Bye. Anna -- Banana. He also says something that sounds like "tuck" for truck and "bok" for block, and he even says "Elmo" occasionally because Mimi has so many stuffed Elmos. Honestly, he isn't a big talker and would rather smile. And squeal.

7. At his pediatric check-up he weighed 22 lbs. He is in the 50-75th percentile for height and 25-50th for weight. He seems really big to me and looks really tall, but I guess that's because his sister was always so little (She's in the 50th percentile for height but only 10th for weight). The little guy wears a size 4 shoe and usually a 12 or 18 month in clothes. And in case you're wondering, the shots were extremely sad for me, but Mack was okay within seconds. Also, he has 9 teeth -- 4 on top in the front and 2 top molars, and the other 3 teeth are on the bottom.

8. Mack is mischievous and very much a boy. I always assumed that since Mimi was so wild that there's no way another child could be into more than she was -- even if he is a boy -- but I was so, so wrong. Mack is curious about everything. He wants to tear his toys apart and throw them and climb over them. He barrels through the den and doesn't stop to see what is in his way. If Mimi is building a block tower, he can't get to it fast enough to knock it over. If she's reading a book, he fights with all his might to steal it from her so he can rip out the pages. On the other hand, he is extremely tough and can take it when Mimi climbs on his back and puts him in a head lock. If another child at the park accidentally (or on purpose) steps on him, he just looks up and smiles most of the time.

9. It has been fun to watch how Mack plays with all his toys a little differently than Mimi did. It usually didn't take her long to figure out how to put things together, but Mack is more concerned about taking things apart. "How can I rip the doors off the school bus? Can this barn hold my weight? What will happen if I throw this block?" I can normally put him in the floor with his sister and he will look over and explore every toy. His favorites are anything that makes music. He loves to press the buttons and then smiles and bounces up and down. He is a little obsessed with a pink Disney princess guitar, and I have to hide it in Mimi's closet because I've heard the Beauty and the Beast song so much I want to pull my hair out. Because he's a boy, Mack likes

cars and trucks and trains. He also likes blocks -- at least knocking over blocks. He loves playing in the big red Cozy Coupe and pushing his sister around, and he also has a few other riding and push-toys that he's begun playing with more. The little guy also loves any Little People toys and will crawl around with them around the house.

10. Mack really loves his sister. And she loves him, too. This is all I could have ever hoped for, BUT I know they are partners in crime. Together they open the cabinets and pull everything out and make a mess and scream to the top of their lungs. She throws her pillows off the bed, and he rolls around in them and encourages her. He throws food off his tray, and so does she. She looks at Clint and says, "Thhhpppttt!" and spits all over him . . . and Mack does the same. And then they both laugh hysterically. But when they're in the stroller, Mack puts his little foot on Mimi's legs, and she pokes her hand through the side to tickle him and make him laugh. She tries to give him a toy when he's sad, and she loves for him to dance while she sings. I'm so glad he has her as his big sister . . . even though they will give me lots and lots of gray hairs when they're in high school.

And I'm not the only one in love with this little peanut . . . his Daddy seems pretty smitten, too.For Mack's birthday, we just celebrated with the fam at home and enjoyed a fantastic cake from Bittersweet (you must try this place!) sent from Clint's family. Mack thought the hat and candles were fun and was in love with the cake.

He laughed.

He even fussed a little.

And Mommy took him to Little Beans to play for a while.

We had a birthday party for both my August babies a few days later, but that post will have to come at another time . . . some little blonde thing needs to go to bed.

The Most Fun

2011-08-03T17:19:00.019-05:00

So I've slacked a little more than I thought I would on the blog since I've been staying at home with Mimi and Mack. There are a couple of reasons for that:

1). Two little ones keep me extremely busy and on my toes at all times with their shenanigans and demands. They wake up demanding food and milk and cartoons and diapers changed and bathroom time and the playground and tea parties, and it doesn't stop until I get them in bed at night. High maintenance little boogers.

2). I have been having the most fun.

Absolutely the most fun of my entire life. Well, kindergarten was a lot of fun for me, but other than that I can't possibly think of a better time in my life. This might have been the most difficult year in my life with the addition of a second baby, the move to a new city, going back to work and traveling daily, and the crazy overactive thyroid making me bonkers, but I think the insanity is over. So I am sitting back and letting life happen. And life is a lot of fun right now.

I thank the wazoo out of my hubs for making this possible for me -- so, so grateful that I am able to spend all day with my little ones watching them learn and discover. Now don't think that I lounge on the couch while they quietly play blocks on the floor. Uh-uh, not at all. I can't remember the last time I actually sat on the couch other than to put someone's shoes on. It has gotten easier as they've gotten older but it's definitely not easy. Luckily I'm a fairly patient person and don't mind going with the flow. I have my moments where I just want to walk outside and scream (and if you heard one from my corner recently I'm pleading the 5th), but most of the time I try to remember that they're babies. I can't expect them to understand all their rules or be able to figure things out for themselves.

Although I'm having a lot of fun with these little guys, I still have to force myself to be just a little selfish and do what I like, which over the past couple of days just happened to be going through photos of my children . . . and blogging about them. Obsessed much, Jeri Anne? Anyway, during their naptimes I decided to not do laundry or clean but to go through the hundreds of photos I've taken this summer and put just a few on this random post. So here you go . . .

1). I don't get to sew as much as I'd like to, and part of the reason is that it absolutely can't be done while Mack is awake and even sometimes when Mimi's awake because she likes to pull and poke and push buttons. Occasionally I'll let her play along, and Clint just happened to grab the camera and snap a couple of pics.

2). Morning cartoons.

3). Post-nap Mimi. It's a little punk-rock, don't you think?

4). Mack loves his pacifier. He only gets it at naptime, and sighs with relief when he sees it.

5). There was a time when I questioned my having Mimi and Mack so close together in age. Both in diapers, both needing to sleep in the crib, both fussing and crying to get what they wanted. Ugh, it was a little tough for a few months. And then this happened . . .

. . . and this.

That's right, folks. They actually like to play together now! Hip, hip, hooray!

Kisses:)

If Mimi wakes up from her nap first, she usually asks, "Mommy, where's Macky? Can you wake him up so he can play with me in my room?" Ooh, how I love it. She's fairly gentle with him most the time, but he has been tough when she hasn't. I only try to intervene if they are actually hurting each other, and I'm trying to teach Mimi to give him a toy to play with if she's really attached to whatever she's playing with and isn't in the mood to share. It seems to be working okay.

6). Little sticky-up hair in the back makes him look like a fuzzy baby chick.

7). The kid will eat anything I put in front of him. Absolutely anything.

8). Aagh! Water!!

Maybe it's not so bad . . .

Aw, what the heck.

Little Bub.

9). Could watch the little guy sleep all day. He won't fall asleep in my arms anymore and practically jumps out of them to get into his crib. He loves to sleep (moms with newborns hate me right now). He will sometimes sleep from 6:30 at night to 7:30 in the morning and then take one or two 2-3 hour naps during the day. I'm too cheap for a video monitor, but I think he probably wakes up and plays with whatever stuffed animals I've thrown in his crib for a while before he actually yells for us. We can hear him "talking" to them. But I snuck in and caught him waking up after a nap one day. . .

10). Meemers with her Teddy Bear. I was afraid TB might be on his last leg because his poor little head was coming unraveled, but no need to fear because her Shug sewed him back together . . . and he has a funny little skinny neck now. But Mimi has unconditional love for him.

11). Can you say Clint Darby, Jr?

12). Sweetness, mmmmm, I can't get enough of him. I know it's hard to believe from this photo, but he is a complete bulldozer. The boy was built to destroy everything in sight . . . or to at least try to eat it.

13). Sorry, girls. I'm afraid those blue eyes might break a few hearts.

14). Repunzel in her tower and the prince climbing up to save her . . . all while chomping on her paper crown from Dollar Tree.
15). I love a tutu but adults who try to sport them get put on What Not to Wear. So I'll just let Mimi have them for now. She wore this one in Wiggleworms (a music class) this week and announced that she was a ballerina. Another girl tried to show her up by explaining to Mimi that she was a "Princess with a Ponytail." Mimi said, "Well, okay. But I'm the Ballerina Princess . . . now you wanna play ring around the rosies?"
16). Mack has finally learned how to play basketball. He puts the ball in and music plays and fun lights go off -- isn't that what it's like in the NBA?

Happy 3rd Birthday Comeover

2011-08-03T12:58:00.008-05:00

It has happened! My little baby girl has turned 3 YEARS OLD! Geez, Louise, why did it have to happen so quickly? The night before her birthday, Clint and I tucked her in and told her how three years ago we were getting ready to go to the hospital to welcome her to the world, and then we went on with the story. She seemed to be pleased with this history lesson, and then she asked Daddy to leave so Mommy could read her a story. Three years old = S.A.S.S.Y.

Three means "big girl" in Mimi's world. "Mommy, I not a baby. Mimi's a BIG GIRL." So in return I get to say, "Mimi, please don't whine. I thought you said you were a big girl," and "Mimi, please don't throw your peas on the floor. Remember that you are a big girl." I'm seriously using all this to my advantage, and she seems to be cool with jumping on the "Big Girl Bandwagon." Since Mimi has been sleeping in her big bed downstairs, we have tried every method in the world of getting her to stay there, but the only trick that works is for one of us to lie down with her until she falls asleep. This is really, really sweet time since she's a little snuggle bunny, BUT it means we usually fall asleep with her and will stumble up to our room in the middle of the night. On Monday night (her bday was Aug 1), I let her know that since she is a big girl, then she can finally fall asleep by herself. The new rule is that Mommy and Daddy will read a book and snuggle for a few minutes, but then we are going to leave the room. And she has totally seemed okay with this. The first night Clint and I were so excited that it worked . . . and then he put in headphones and played on his computer while I read a book. Ha! Talk about some quality time spent together! Last night we had a pretty fierce storm, and I was concerned that we might have to break the rules. After the book, I asked if she was okay with me leaving, and she quickly nodded her head and waved bye to me. Awe, she didn't need me. So I guess I need to jump on the Big Girl Bandwagon today.

I'm trying to allow her to be a little more independent, yet I am giving her more rules. That's what it's all about anyway -- with freedom comes responsibility. She can walk by the stroller, but if she's lagging behind or attempts to walk away then she immediately goes in the stroller. She can sit in a big person chair at a restaurant, but if she tries to get up or is being unruly then she must sit in a high chair. It takes more effort from both of us, but she is responding to it really well . . . at least most of the time.

Since both Mimi and Mack have August birthdays, we will be celebrating with a party later in the month, but we wanted to do something small just for Mimi. We explained this to Mimi and let her know that after her nap just a few neighbors would come over and eat cake, so she named this her "Birthday Comeover." And she woke up from her nap with just as much enthusiasm as a girl should have for her Birthday Comeover (not to be confused with a "comb over" or a "hangover").

She opened a talking princess card and a Sit and Spin (oh muh gah, I love those!) from her Top and Shug, and she has already mastered balancing on top of the thing. I guess it is her toy and she can play with it how she wants.
Clint and I went against our better judgement and decided to get our little artist an easel with a chalkboard and dry erase side. Oh my word, was she jumping for joy or what?

The easel proved to be a hit with our sweet little neighbor Calvin . . .

. . . and with both our little monkeys. Mack only ate about half a crayon and some chalk, so he should be okay.And then came the coolest cake EVER -- a peanut butter and jelly cake from Clint's family. How awesome is that? I could tell Mimi had been practicing blowing out the candles because she did it in record time.

Our youngest little neighbor, William, also made an appearance. Mmmm, little sweetness. Love him.

So as the festivities were winding down and everyone was returning to their home, um, across the hall or down the stairs, I walked over to the den to make sure Mimi thanked them, and then, GASP, I saw it. I should have taken a photo, but I couldn't quite think that this might actually be funny at some point. Mimi had drawn a mural all over the rug. ALL OVER. With a dry erase marker. I let out a little shriek and dropped Mack and the last of my neighbors inched out the door before witnessing a meltdown. But there was no meltdown. At least not from me. Mimi realized that she had done something wrong and immediately hugged my leg and cried. I let her know that it's okay but we must discuss the rules if we are going to color. I mean, how was she supposed to know that the old rug wasn't part of her canvas? He he. Honestly, I was really hoping that she had completely ruined it because I hate that red rug. Oh well, I guess I'll need to buy some oil-based paints for her 4th birthday . . .

Happy 3rd Birthday, Miss Mimi! We love you!!

Hotel Darby, at Your Service

2011-07-29T17:14:00.012-05:00

I had no idea we'd become so popular when we moved to Chicago, but people keep coming and coming. Okay, so maybe it's Chicago that's the cool place and not so much our little condo, but either way we've been so happy to have freeloaders shackin' up with us over the summer. Thank goodness the couch is so comfy.

Our sweet Poppaw and Bebe kicked off the summer with a visit at the end of May. They couldn't have come at a more perfect time because I had just quit my job and had a few weeks to get adjusted to staying home all day with two little monkeys. And I needed a break. Whew.

I tried to do a better job of actually getting out into the city with them this time since I feel like we usually just stick around the neighborhood. We attempted to go to the Lincoln Park Zoo on Memorial Day (ha haha hahaha, along with everyone else in the city), and after sitting in traffic in the car for over an hour (the zoo is only a couple of miles from our home, by the way) we decided to just go back to the park in our neighborhood. Sigh.

The next day we were able to try again, and I'm so glad we did.

There is plenty of room to roam around in the zoo, so it was fantastic to have to extra folks help me corral Mimi in when she wandered a little. One of Mimi's favorite parts of the zoo is the farm. And I'm sure it was Old MacJerry's also. Here they're checking out the new little piglets.

Or is that my children when they're eating a snack? Hmm . . .

And the rest of the trip I basically handed the children to my mom, kicked my feet up, and drank a beer. See, she's a natural. He he.

My dad even helped just a little. He didn't seem to mind.

And then came the two most hip visitors -- my fourteen-year-old neice Jean-Nicolette and her buddy Sylvia.

In a plane. By themselves. Wowzers.

So we ate Chicago-style hot dogs and deep-dish, we saw the Bean and the beach, we rode the train, and they even got stuck in a revolving door. They shopped on Michigan, ordered Chinese take-out in little boxes (per Sylvia's request), and saw tall buildings. But that was not what they came for. What they came to see I could never give them. They came . . . for GLEE.

The girls had fantastic tickets (like, 5th row, I think) and a fun little VIP pass, and I was able to take them to the concert (but I didn't go in because I was letting them be cool) and witness more skinny teenage girls in the tiniest little shorts ever (When did it become cool to wear shorts so short that pockets hang out the bottom? I'm so old). But they had a blast, and I'm fairly certain that nothing else in their teenage years will be half as exciting for them as this concert. No football game, no cute boy, and no "let's sneak out and roll yards" kind of sleepover. This was pretty awesome.

They came back to show Mimi their moves, and then they basically sat on our couch and watched the entire first season of Glee the rest of the weekend. Oh, to be young again. But they were responsible and mature and I'm hoping my big brother lets them come again next year.:)

Then we had Neal and Brian and Louisa and baby Harrison. I got absolutely no photos of the entire weekend (which was pretty awesome and consisted of Clint performing a cartwheel on a downtown sidewalk and Brian heckling a cab driver) except for a few of Mack and his new little buddy. They loved each other and will hopefully be more mature than their dads. Nah, maybe not.

And then came the wildness, otherwise known as JR Bolton. Gah, I love this kid.

Clint's sister Mary Claire and her children stayed with us for a long weekend, and my kiddos were in heaven with all the entertainment. They loved waking up and having cousins to play with all day. Clint and I were able to go on an architectural boat tour with Mary Claire and Olivia, something that we've been wanting to do since we moved here. It was amazing -- I totally recommend it. Even though it was a little chilly, they still loved the sprinklers at our neighborhood park.

A few weeks ago a good friend I once taught with in a former life (I cannot believe I was a teacher) and I haven't seen in about five years came to Chicago and had a day to play with us. We took her and her daughter Madi (along with Madi's Flat Stanley that Mack made friends with) to the aquarium.
It was ridiculously hot and the aquarium was nice and cool and calm. Well, the fish were calm, but my children were crazy. Mimi ran all over the place (imagine that), and Mack wanted to crawl everywhere. Thank goodness Madi is a mature little thing, or I might have lost my marbles.

Mack loved the Beluga whales. Mimi did some ballet moves for them.

Whew, so I finally cleaned the house and washed the sheets, so feel free to start booking ahead for next summer. I can't guarantee those sheets will still be clean, but the cook makes some fine banana pancakes.

The First Child

2011-07-14T14:13:00.007-05:00

Before there was a Mack or a Mimi or even a Ruthie, there was a Spike. I met Spike the first time I went to Clint's home in Germantown, and he sniffed me and walked away. I tried without avail to get him to play with me, but he just wanted to lie in his bed or run around the backyard peeing on everything. As soon as I had some food in my hand, he pretended to be my best bud, but I knew he had other motives so I decided to play hard to get. That night I heard a scratch at the door of the bedroom I was staying in and then was frightened to death when that little peculiar creature decided to hop in the bed with me, made me scoot over to give him space, and then walked around in a circle until he got as close to me as possible to spoon. And then I knew we were cool.

That's where my story with Spike begins, but the real story begins when Clint was about 14 years old in Batesville, Mississippi, and his father and brother brought home a tiny little Rat Terrier they decided to name Spike. I've heard stories about him following Clint to school, running into the gym and onto the court of church basketball games, being fed honeybuns out of vending machines, and fighting off dogs three times his size.

He reminded me a little of a cat because he made sure he was always in control of when he allowed people to give him attention, and then he would sneak away to his bed when he had enough. Spike was the kind of dog that could be let out of the house and would come back whenever he was ready. He knew how to sneak a bite off anyone's plate by staring with sad, longing eyes. Although he was normally very gentle, he had no problem letting people know when he was tired of being messed with.

When I met Spike he was about 7 or 8 years old, but he already had the personality of an old, ornery man. He didn't want anyone bothering him too much, and he was very set in his routine of eating, sleeping, and peeing on things. Let me reword -- peeing on EVERYTHING. He was never neutered and there were several times I caught him casually walking down a hallway and quickly lifting a leg. When he got in trouble he innocently looked around like he had done nothing wrong. I mean, it was his world and we were just living in it, right?

When Spike moved in with us, I tried my best to be a good stepmother. I fed him and bathed him and took him on walks and let him sleep on my side of the bed at night. And he still didn't really treat me much differently.

Then we decided to add to our little family and give Spike a sibling . . . and along came puppy Ruthie. She was sooo tiny and cute and scared to death of absolutely everyone and everything . . . except Spike. She quickly warmed up to him and followed him around the house, and he absolutely hated her from the start. Like a said, Spike was more like a cat and couldn't stand another dog invading his space.

I tried my best to make them bond -- you know like sweet little dogs that you see snuggling together in front of the fireplace, but uh-uh. Not happening. I think Ru would have obliged, but Spike had zero interest in taking part in anything that had to do with Ruthie.

So then came Mimi, and I was so nervous about how the dogs would react to her. We placed Mimi on the bed, and Ruthie happily sniffed her and checked her out. Spike then jumped up on the bed, sniffed her, and then gave her a look that said, "Oh, shit. They've gone and gotten one of these things. He then stood at the edge of the bed waiting on Clint to get him down (although he could still hop up on the bed, he had trouble jumping off onto the wood floor). After that day, I can't remember him ever attempting to snuggle with us at night again.

Within Mimi's first year, I really began noticing Spike's health deteriorate. I don't think it was because of her -- I mean, Spike was fifteen years old at this point. I can remember taking him to the vet and seeing the surprise on their faces at what good health this old guy was still in, but we never had great vet visits after his fifteenth year. His teeth and eyes were getting worse, and his arthritis was bothering him. It was becoming a little harder for him to go up and down the steps on the back porch, and you could forget him attempting to jump on the bed or couch. He had trouble chewing his food at times and would occasionally run into things he couldn't see well.

When we made the decision to move to Chicago, we also had to make the decision to leave Spike behind. He absolutely hates cold weather and there is no way he could climb up and down three flights of stairs to go on walks. So he went to live with Clint's parents, and we knew that he would probably live out his last days with them.

On Thursday around noon, Clint sent me a text message telling me that Spike had to be put down.

My first reaction was to worry about Clint and his parents who had cared for Spike for so long, but before I knew it my eyes were filled with tears as I began remembering all the car rides and Beggin' Strips and snuggling on the couch while I was pregnant and exhausted. He was absolutely the most peculiar little dog I've ever met, but he definitely grew on me and made me love him . . . and all that time I was worried about whether he loved me or not.

So my hope for Spike is that he is in heaven taking the best car ride ever and gnawing on as many Beggin' Strips and he can. I hope he has a fantastic little bed and loads on honeybuns. I hope he can lay on a porch and stare at the sun all afternoon. We'll miss you, Itty Bud.

Spike Darby

July 4, 1993 - July 14, 2011

A Hero in the Making

2011-06-28T06:49:00.013-05:00

No, it's not me. It's that handsome devil sitting next to me.

He will without a shadow of a doubt be the hero for two little monkeys I know.

According to said monkeys, he kinda already is.

Before Clint and I were married, he was a little unsure about having children. Let me rephrase that -- he was a little unsure of being a father . . . because he wanted to make sure he could do it right. He knew already the great responsibility that comes with being a dad, and it's not something one should take lightly. But he was the one who came to me first and asked if we wanted to think about starting a family -- two years before we had originally planned. Then along came Mimi. Wowzers. And our life completely flipped upside down . . . thank goodness we love flipping :).

We were both so unsure of what we were doing, but we knew we loved this little wild thing. Clint asks me often, "Am I doing okay as a dad? Do you think she loves me?" I wish I could take a photo of Mimi's reaction every day when Clint arrives home from work just so he could be reminded throughout the day of how happy she is to see him.

But I'm not surprised at all that Mimi is smitten with her father, and I am absolutely in love with the way that Clint is taken with her. As I've written about many times, Mimi has quite a bit of energy. She runs away from us and makes us wrestle her into her shoes . . . she sings to the top of her lungs in restaurants and even told Clint he was a "doo doo head" a few days ago while jumping on the couch and belting it out in a song. Yet Clint tells me often, "She is exactly the way I want her to be." He truly thinks she is the most beautiful and smartest little girl in the world -- sorry if you think your kid is cuter because Clint will be ready to argue. She is totally his partner in crime. After Mack has gone to bed the two of them sit on the couch together and he teaches her really useful things to say such as, "What's that noise? Is that a frog in my pants?" if she happens to accidentally do you know what. Sigh. Potty humor is their fave. So I guess I can get him back with this beautiful photo . . .

I promise that's my hat and not his, but we can pretend he wore it all day just for fun.

I was at a park recently with the kiddos (the story of my life right now), and two boys were in the corner practicing their golf swings. As soon as Mimi spotted them she said, "Oh, Mommy! Let's go play golf balls!!" and she raced across the grass and almost ran into them. Thank goodness they were such sweeties, and they spent at least 30 minutes teaching Mimi how to put the tee in the ground and even let her swing their clubs and practice. Before she left they gave Mimi her own ball and tee, and before she even had them in her hand she yelled, "I can't wait to show these to Daddy!"

And then came our sweet little baby boy.

Sweet, sweet, sweet little thing, and he is crazy about his silly Daddy. Honestly, he's a bit of a
"Momma's Boy," but I can't put a smile on his face as quickly as Clint can. He knows when Daddy's around that he'll get thrown up in the air and on the pillows and tickled until he giggles so hard that he can barely catch his breath.

Clint has a different relationship with Mack already. He tells me that I "baby" him a bit too much -- he needs to be tough. Well, anyone can see how tough the little guy is when his sister pounces on him and he doesn't bat an eye. But Clint feels a special responsibility with his son. Recently Clint commented on how handsome Mack will be (Well, duh. Cutest little boy ever), and because of this he must teach Mack to be really nice to girls.

To be kind and good and smart. Just like his daddy. It's a little late, but Happy Father's Day, Clint.

Summer in the City

2011-06-15T16:39:00.006-05:00

It's about damn time. I never thought it would come. Sixty degrees then forty. Up to seventy then down to fifty. I've learned to sport a spring scarf and wear pastel sweaters with the best of them, but enough's enough. This is the view I've been waiting on.

We moved to Chicago last July when I was 8 1/2 months pregnant, and leaving 100 degrees with high humidity behind was just fine with me. Summer here is beautiful as was the Fall, and, believe it or not, we really enjoyed experiencing the snow. But spring I do not love. In the South spring means buttercups then blooming dogwoods and cherry trees, teasers of 75 degree days, and warm rains. Then azaleas and pastel dresses and flip flops. In Chicago it means some possible snow and keeping the winter clothes in the closet and tank tops in storage for much longer than I cared to do. BUT June finally arrived and so did the sunshine. My legs are way too white for this time of year, but I'm a 32-year-old mother of two and am just happy to have two legs with which I can chase my wild monkeys.

I finally stuck some dragon-wing begonias (my FAVORITE plant to pot) and sweet potato vine in my two little window baskets. It's nothing compared to my hydrangeas and peonies and gardenias and gigantic George Tabor I left in my yard in Memphis, but it will have to do for now. I'm dying to call our renters and make sure they know to drench the hydrangeas every morning in July, but something tells me I have to let it go . . . sigh.

So summer in Chicago means walks to Scooters for frozen custard and brunch outdoors and running through sprinklers in the park.

Mimi calls these treats "pops-a-cicles"

There are street festivals every weekend and fabulous outdoor concerts. We recently saw Ray Lamontagne at Millenium Park, and ahhhhh . . . I could have cared a less that I could barely see him. Sitting in a lawn chair while drinking a beer and listening to his raspy voice felt like heaven to me.

Summer also means visitors, and I have LOVED opening our home to family and friends. If you're planning a trip to Chi-town, book your reservations ASAP -- the weekends are filling up. The Darby home has become quite popular since the snow has melted :).

Anyway, we've been busy, busy, busy, which is why I've totally let the blog rest for a while. There is lots to to write about, but I've decided to take my new job as mommy very seriously. Okay, I don't really take much seriously, but I've been having a really good time with my little clowns. Mimi is hilarious in her tutus showing me her new ballet moves and singing her beautiful songs. One goes like this, "He's a man, he's a C, he's a B, he's a Lee!" And another is, "Cindarelly, Cindarelly, she's a polka-dot princes, dada, dada, dada, dada." She loves to pretend things are phones -- a banana, a shoe, just whatever's handy -- and she'll have wonderful conversations. "Oh, hi, Poppaw. What you do today? Oh, I see. I just watching TB and doing ballet. I'll see you later!" On that note she did actually have a convo with her sweet Poppaw on the phone today. When he told her she was a sweet girl, she responded with, "No, I not a sweet girl. Mommy put me in time-out for screaming and hurting her ears." Whenever I ask her to do something such as to please stop standing on the back of the couch, she replies with, "I so sorry, Mommy, but I can't get down right now. I trying to jump and it's sooo fun." Or when I ask her to stop pulling poor Ruthie's legs out from under her she'll say, "But it's not hurting her, it's funny!"

Just so I don't forget, Mimi also says, "What dese are?" when she wants to know what something is. She still says, "Hold you" when she wants to be carried because "the stairs are so heaby."

Mack has 3 teeth on top now (5 total), and I am SO thankful that those 3 boogers cut because he has been a fussy little monkey for quite some time. He instantly starts bouncing when he hears music, and has just learned to clap his little hands. He babbles and makes lots of silly noises and sounds and thinks it is absolutely a riot to blow out all of his food (you know, by going "bbbppphhht") on me when I'm feeding him yogurt. He said the sweetest "Mom-ma" on my birthday. His little laugh is infectious. Absolutely the cutest thing I've ever heard and it makes me happier than most anything in this world. Bubby loves to feed sweet potatoes, peas, watermelon, and squash to himself which makes mealtime a little easier. A couple of times a week I cook lots of veggies for Mimi, and now he can eat them too. Meanwhile I'll eat burgers and fries:).

While my time with the little ones is so fun, it's quite a circus around the house. Mack wakes me up at 5:30 but will usually go to bed for another hour or so. And then sometimes he doesn't. Then at breakfast he and Mimi both scream and carry on until I have enough food in front of them to put a fat man in a stupor and sometime in the middle of all this I will usually attempt a shower, clothes, hair in a ponytail, and then the new edited make-up routine of tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. If it's a good day I'll throw on some concealer so it appears I'm actually well-rested. But sometimes all of this goes to crap, and I just get them out of the house as quickly as possible to keep us all sane. Thankfully there are several Starbucks in walking distance, so I usually get some sort of nourishment to give me energy to chase the wild blonde-headed girl at the park. Yes, other moms and nannies will actually stop me at the park to comment, "Wow. She sure does have a LOT of energy. How do you keep up?" I smile and tell them that I don't. I just pray that she's lucky. Then back home for lunch and the screaming, starving children, who have probably eaten about a bazillion crackers while we were on our walk, but anyway they are still starving. If I'm lucky I can get them to nap at the same time, and this is when I, well, sometimes nap myself for at least 15 minutes. Then I quickly walk the dog, throw in some laundry, unload the dishwasher, or do some other housewifely thing and attempt to put together a decent meal for dinner -- or order take-out depending on the day. I would love to say that after we get the babies bathed and in bed that Clint and I snuggle up on the couch with wine and a good movie, but the truth is that that rarely happens. Normally whoever puts Mimi to bed falls asleep with her and stumbles up the stairs around 3AM because her bed is soooo stinkin' comfortable, and we're both really exhausted by then anyway. And she is absolutely the sweetest little snuggler I know.

Please don't take this the wrong way. I'm not complaining about taking care of my little ones. I'm just really surprised at how different my life is than it was just 3 short years ago. They are the most curious creatures who keep me on my toes at all times. Mimi loves to climb on really tall dangerous things such as the back of the couch, and Mack, the fastest crawler this side of the Mississippi, can dive head-first into the empty bathtub before I've even realized he's left the room. I feel like I'm in a serious wrestling match whenever I have to put them into new clothes or change Mack's diaper. I have put Mimi in time-out a couple of times this week because of all the crazy struggling to get away when I made her put on shoes so we could go to the park which has ended up with me getting hurt. She flipped backwards and kicked me in the eye yesterday, which caused some serious cussing and making myself leave the room so I didn't do anything I would regret later. She begs to go to the park but makes me chase her and hold her down kicking and screaming to put on a shirt and God-forbid if I ever try to get her fuzzy hair out of her eyes with a bow or to put it in a ponytail (or a "fairytale" as she likes to call it). And although Mack is little he can put up a fight as well as his big sister. He reminds me a lot of Bam Bam with the way he can easily pick up his Little People farm with one hand and throw it. Any girl who has babysat him always comments on how difficult it was to put on his pj's or change his diaper.

But this little handsome thing can go naked for all I care.

I have a serious addiction to kissing and squeezing him. As Clint's mom told me this weekend, "Do it as much as you can now because there will be a day when he'll ask you to stay in the car." I tear up when I think of that. Just yesterday we were all playing in Mimi's room when Mimi started fussing for no reason. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "Mommy, I pretend to be the baby. Will you pick me up and put me in the crib?" What in the world? But she is still a baby. Wait, no she isn't. She's big and bossy and crazy and not a baby at all.

So enough of that and a complete change of subject. One of my favorite parts of summer is putting Mimi in new brightly-colored clothes. This is one of my faves I scored on Zulily.

I really think I would let Mack crawl around naked all summer, but I'm from Mississippi and I just can't let people think we do that. So I have begun sewing again. While I have a short-all cut out for Mack, all I've had time to make are a couple of pairs of shorts, but they are so stinkin' cute on him. But I don't have a photo of them so you get this one instead.

But he's still cute naked.

Mimi had a fun apron skirt last summer that she outgrew, so I had to make another. And I found an easy way to make a flower for her shirt. I think I need one for myself.
And I totally ripped this from a chick in Jackson, Mississippi, who has Meeny Miny Moe. "Like" her on FB because you will LOVE her stuff. Her things are much cuter than anything I could possibly ever make, and I'm a little obsessed with ties and shorts that she has made for little boys. L-O-V-E them. I'm all about smocked bubbles for babies, but I feel a little sorry for those big rough and tough boys in preschool whose moms still put them in giant lace collars and sissy Peter Pan collars (Kyle, remember that 8-year-old linebacker-looking kid and his brother in the matching giant collars?). There is a time to stop all of that, and these funky ties are just the thing for that next step. They are so, so cool. Mack will HAVE to have one in a couple of years . . . and a Fedora and will need to learn how to spell P-I-M-P. He he.

Once again I've been trying really hard to get M & M to love each other and our photo session this morning ended with this one being the best. The rest were full of pulled hair and screams and knocking each other over, but they were actually laughing in this one. I'll have to say that it's perfect.

And then Mimi screamed, "Ew, yucky, Mack! You need to change a diaper. Gross!"

I'm in Big Trouble

2011-05-18T20:23:00.007-05:00

I am in time out according to this little face.

Here's exactly how it happened. A few minutes before bathtime I turned off the TV because I am really, really trying to not have it on every waking second of the day, and I needed to get her stinky little self up the stairs and into the tub. I returned to the kitchen to finish unloading the dishwasher, and I heard Mimi's little squeaky voice being very animated about something. This consumes 90% of our day, so it took a second for me to realize her drama was directed at me. And this is how the conversation went:

"Mommy. MOMMY! I need you to look at my eyes. Look at my eyes, Mommy. You DO. NOT. EBER. DO. THAT. AGAIN. You hear me?" And then she gave me the look shown above.

At this point I had to turn around and giggle a little. My first instinct was to hang her by her toes for speaking to me in that way, but I was hoping that she was just kidding and decided to play along. "I'm so sorry, Mimi. What was it that I did?

"Mommy, DO NOT eber turn off the TB when I'm watching Curious George. I'm gonna count to 3 and then you go to Time-Out. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3. Okay, Mommy, now say you're sorry."

Sigh . . . I am truly in some serious trouble with this one. The Jr. High years are going to be a real hoot around the Darby house with Miss Bossy Pants for sure.

And she's already talked her little brother into driving her around. He doesn't care though. He weighs about as much as she does and can totally beat her up if she steps out of line.

See, he even made her get out and push when they ran out of gas.

Recently I pulled out the sewing machine for the first time in a really, really long time (yipee!) and have already made a prissy little outfit for Mack that my husband looked at and commented, "Please tell me that's for Mimi." Anyway, Mimi gets all in my business when I'm sewing and likes to dig through my scraps. She found a scrap that had a few threads attached, and it became her best friend (why do we buy her toys?). She has named it her "slinky toy" and runs around the house dangling it so either Ruthie or Mack will chase her, and she sat in the floor with Mack one morning playing keep-away for at least 10 minutes . . . this is a new record.
I've been home with the little ones for a couple of weeks now, and Miss Mimi has definitely kept me entertained. Like I said earlier I have tried to keep the TV off as much as possible, but I do turn it on when I put Mack down for his morning nap to keep Mimi busy and downstairs. I came down a couple of days ago to find her in full princess attire shaking it with Laila Ali on Yo Gabba Gabba. Maybe we do have hope for a spot on So You Think You Can Dance . . .
And then she decided she wanted to be a cowgirl. She told me she couldn't wait until Daddy got home so she could tell him, "Yeehaw!!"
Mimi and her Daddy are two peas in a pod. Their new favorite past-time is playing some silly game on the IPAD where they can talk to a cartoon dog and make him burp. If they could only make him toot, I think I might never be able to pull them away from it.

But this little guy is mine. I've claimed him. He is on my side. And he usually seems to agree.

And it is all my fault because I completely spoil him and baby him and pick him up when I should probably let him cry . . . but that's okay because he is a devoted mama's boy. This is what I see most of the time when I look down. Some sweet little blue eyes looking up at me.
No matter how much I baby him the truth is that I know he's going to be even a little wilder than Mimi. He started crawling earlier, is pulling up earlier, and has already discovered how to open and close things he shouldn't open and close much, much earlier than she did. He's noisy and messy and a complete bulldozer when he moves across the floor. But he absolutely melts in my arms and likes to snuggle his fuzzy little head under my chin. Mmmmm . . . I might eat him up. But I will probably need to do it before he turns into the two-year-old that his silly sister has . . .

Better Late Than Never

2011-05-06T15:31:00.012-05:00

So I published this post a LONG time ago with lots of fun captions and stories . . . but then they disappeared. Ugh. I will eventually rewrite it, but for now here are the pics.

Quitter

2011-04-27T22:45:00.004-05:00

Mimi has really begun to pretend. She loves to hand-pick her favorite rocks when we are outside, and I've noticed lately that she names them -- Mommy, Daddy, Mimi, Mack, Ruthie, and Lacy. And, of course they have conversations with each other.

"Hi. My name is Mimi. What's your name?"

"My name is Mommy. So glad to meet you. Oh, you're so cute. I luuuub you!"

She also does this with her blocks, her crackers, and Splenda packets at restaurants. She's into dressing up as a princess and pretending to be a ballerina in her tutu. At a few of the parks we visit, there are window-type areas built in under the slides and bridges, and she loves to pretend she is a waitress taking my order. Of course we always order hamburgers and French fries and choc-o-wit ice cream.

I love to stand outside her little make-believe world and watch her carry on conversations with her stuffed animals and dolls. It's hilarious and can be really touching when I hear her being sympathetic to her Curious George after he has fallen down (even if Mimi was the one who threw him off the bed). So I thought I would do a little pretending of my own a few weekends ago just for my own personal entertainment.

Every year Clint goes to Augusta for a few days in the spring just to twiddle his thumbs and watch the azaleas bloom, but this is the first year that he has gone while I have been the mother of a 2 1/2-year-old and a 7 month old. He has traveled a little since we've been in Chicago but only for a night at a time. He did go to San Diego for several days, BUT my parents came to help while he was gone. Since I already knew this might possibly be a challenging weekend for me, I thought it might be fun to "pretend" that my life was a little different just to make the time pass easier.

First I decided to pretend I am a single mom -- tough and independent. A man would just get in the way. It is true that I accuse Clint of being in the way sometimes because he doesn't know my schedule and routine . . . and he leaves his coats and ties and shoes and basically everything else all over the house, but after working all week and then having to do everything for the kiddos all by myself, I never, ever, ever, ever want to be a single mom. Uh uh. No way. For those of you who are divorced or have hubbies who are doing crazy night residency crap or work late shift, I was feeling your pain. Although Clint may make a mess, I missed the heck out of him and realized how much he actually does contribute.

And then I just decided to pretend that it wasn't the weekend at all -- it was the week, and I was a SAHM whose husband just happened to be out of town. This thought excited me just a little more than the single mom gig. The schedule revolved around taking care of the babies and my home, and luckily it was a beautiful weekend for going on walks to get frozen custard and playing at the park. And before I knew it my heart began aching for this way of life once again.

In all honesty, my heart's been aching a whole lot since December when I started back to work. I didn't struggle with my decision to return -- I was very excited about all the possibilities that could come with working in a new area. Working in Memphis and sending Mimi to Roulhac's was perfect for my family, and I thought it would be the same this time. My company had always allowed me some flexibility with handling my weekly schedule, and I was very proud of the work I had done. Because of this I looked forward to returning . . . and I really, really thought I was a terrible SAHM. Mimi was into everything and acting sassy all the time. She didn't obey me and tried to run away from me in public as often as possible. I was pulling my hair out from not being able to take a shower every day or get enough adult conversation. And I resented my husband for being able to get out of the house by himself every day.

Well, what did I expect? Of course, Mimi was sassy. She's a two-year-old who's smart and full of energy. Mack was a sweet little newborn at the time -- of course I wasn't going to get a shower every day. And Clint kind of has to get out of the house every day to go to work. Somebody has to pay the bills. But none of this made sense to me at the time because everything in my world had been turned upside down . . . and going back to work for the same company I had been with for five years seemed very familiar and normal to me.

I began regretting my decision the very first day I returned to work. It was actually early that morning while I was getting ready -- very, very early. Even earlier than little Mack woke up, so I realized I would have to make him eat in his sleep. Mimi was still asleep when I left. Clint and I hadn't even had time for a conversation that morning. And then I hit the traffic . . . and even more on the way home. The next night I was in tears on the way home, but I truly believed it would get better. This never happened before and it would pass.

But it hasn't. I can't make an hour-and-a-half commute any shorter than an hour-and-a-half. I can't rush through my days when I have to drive 3 hours away and still hit every office I need to visit. Every day that I tell my nanny I will try to be back earlier than the day before I make a liar of myself. And the more business I gain the more work I create for myself at night. In the meantime Mimi is learning to be even funnier and Mack is getting stronger and bigger. And I'm sitting in traffic staring at the cars ahead of me.

I have plenty of friends who are mommies and work, and they do it beautifully. They are organized and seem to be able to do it all, and I was once this. But now is a different time and place and situation, and I have had to re-evaluate what is best for my family. And working ain't it.

So I'm a quitter, and I couldn't be happier about it. My last day is next Wednesday, and the countdown is on. My plan is do to things a little differently this time -- shower early, have a place to go or a reason to get out of the house every day, and get involved in more community activities. I will only put one household chore on my list each day and will not beat myself up that the floors are dirty on laundry day. I will have more patience with my children because after all they are just little children.

I will not care if I don't have time to sew, and I WILL NOT sew for anyone else no matter how badly I am dying to make a sweet little girl bubble (unless I have a babysitter or the kids take crazy long naps one day). I will not get frustrated with my husband when he doesn't know what time the kids eat lunch because I never ever have any idea how the rent gets paid. And I will not be upset when a day doesn't go exactly like I just described.

I am totally open to suggestions about how to do this because I really want to get it right this time. My attitude is better and my expectations are greater than the last time, so I'm hoping that's a good start.

And of course I plan on keeping up with the blog a little better :). A few people have told me I need to quit my job if I don't have time to blog, and I completely agree. Must get those priorities straight.

Lazy Saturday = One Happy Family

2011-04-02T09:24:00.008-05:00

I still wake up at the same time on Saturdays as during the week, but 6:30 seems a little bit easier when I know I have nothing to do. Well, I actually have a lot to do today. Snuggling in the bed with my hubby, a black and white dog, and my little M & M. Maybe a shower but definitely no make-up. Coffee and Cheerios or possibly some yogurt. A stroll to the bank and Walgreens and then to the park. Lunch in a neighborhood pub while watching the Cubs. Jommers, cartoons, and cereal in a Tinkerbell bowl. What a busy day.I pulled up the shades this morning, and what did I find? Hello, Mr. Sunshine. Very nice seeing you this morning. You'll go nicely with my cup of Joe and gourmet breakfast. And, yes, the monogrammed mug makes the coffee taste so much better.

Meet Mr. Positive. Atta boy for keeping a good attitude.

Today I've decided I will be a Cubs' fan. For one, Wrigley is only 1.9 miles from my house. I like their colors -- blue looks good on everybody. I love the old-school stadium that has changed very little over the years. I couldn't help but be excited to see people in head to toe Cub gear early yesterday morning as I left for work. The head coach even rode the L yesterday to the opening game. The fans are NOT fair-weather (thank goodness or the stadium might be empty). And the bars in Wrigleyville are very, very cool. Yes, I am officially a Cubs' fan.

Since little Bubby was born and raised on the North Side (ha -- for the 7 months he's been on this earth!), he's definitely a fan. And if you look close enough you can check out those cute little chompers on the bottom.
Isn't he handsome? And he has a new trick. He's semi-crawling. Yikes, I know. This is way too early for me to handle. A few days ago I put a couple of his favorite toys just out of reach, and he bent his right leg underneath and stretched out an arm . . . and then effortlessly pulled himself to the toy. Oh my. I didn't expect this to happen so soon. He JUST learned to comfortably sit up by himself about a week ago, and now he's already on the move. And each day he can go farther and farther.

Guess I need to get all of Mimi's Polly Pockets and miniature castle with 1,000 teeny tiny pieces out of her floor because he loves playing in her room. And do you see the pink and green rat's nest attached to her waist? Except for bathtime Mimi didn't take this tutu off for over a week. It went to the grocery, the bank, restaurants, and to bed with her.

But that's okay because it's a sign that she's become a little girl. She is obsessed with ballet. She makes us and most of her toys "do ballet" with her. I have to turn on some lullaby-sounding music that is on her noisemaker, and she turns in circles and points her toes and holds her arms above her head. Occasionally out of no where she will elegantly hold her leg out to the side like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant, and I'll ask her what in the world she's doing. She replies with, "Mommy. Do you see my foot? It's doing ballet!" I've never seen a move quite like that, but maybe it's some sort of advanced modern step. So you see this is why she must wear her ratty tutu at all times just in case her foot suddenly needs to perform some ballet. By the way, her foot seems to have a mind of its own. Today as she sat on a stool in the kitchen she kept kicking the wall. When I asked her to please stop, she responded with, "But, Mommy. My foot's drumming. It's music." Of course. Anyway, I tried to reknot the strands of tulle and replace the elastic and do everything I knew to make it hold together better, but it looks like something we found at the city dump.

As does her hair after naptime or when she first wakes up in the morning. Have you ever seen such a mess?
And just a couple of things Miss Fuzzyhead says that I don't want to forget:

She says "need wanna" when she wants to do something and "can't wanna" when she doesn't. For example, "Daddy, I need wanna watch TB! It's my turn -- it's not your turn! I can't wanna watch baseball!"

She insists that she lives at "hong" not at "home." If we're leaving the park, she likes to yell to me, "Mommy! I can't wanna go hong!" And then she kicks and flails her arms and throws my back out as I attempt to strap her into the stroller. And I smile and laugh because Mack is usually cracking up at her drama. And it looks kinda like this. How can that not make you laugh?

Anyway, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Saturday -- not sitting in front of a computer or in traffic. Happy Weekend to you!

Who Did It?

2011-03-26T23:54:00.008-05:00

Fess up. You know who you are. You read my last stressed-out post and thought, "Oh, you poor little thing. You're having such a hard time. I need to put you on my Women's Bible Study prayer list." I know you did it because I didn't do it. I never pray for myself, and it's not intentional. I know I don't talk about my Christianity much on here, but I do make time to talk to God and pray for others. But I can't even remember to put on deodorant and mascara half the time much less remember to pray for myself, and now that I think about it maybe I have needed a little prayer lately. I don't have cancer or anything, but I guess everyone's "problems" are relative. Basically, I don't feel like I've been myself for a while, and I'm just now comfortable admitting that.

The move to Chicago, adding a second child to the family, quitting my job and then returning to work, yada, yada, yada, and I guess it all got to me and I didn't know how chill out. My husband probably thinks I'm a walking time bomb that can be set off by any little thing, and that is not who I have ever been. But I had definitely been a little moody for a while. Let me explain. Of course I had all the emotions and anxiety that goes along with pregnancy and having a baby, but mine continued. About four months after having both Mimi and Mack, I developed post-partum hyperthyroiditis. Post-partum-who? Basically, my thyroid went into overdrive. When it happened the first time I thought I had mono or the flu, but after many tests and a visit to a nutso endocrinologist, I found out my anxiousness, fatigue, heart palpitations, hair loss, weight loss, and overall craziness could all be blamed on my thyroid. At the beginning of this January, I immediately knew it had returned. Just when I began to feel comfortable and confident about being a working mom of two I suddenly felt frazzled and crazy. My first sign was the day that I felt like I had drunk too much coffee only to remember I had actually forgotten to get any coffee that morning. I had to catch my breath after walking up a flight of stairs. I was on edge and couldn't keep my thoughts straight when having a discussion with a doctor. Hair was covering my car seat and wool coat. I know that a lot of this can be mistaken for some normal things that can happen after having a baby, but they were a little extreme. The endocrinologist told me that probably about 1 in 10 women has thyroid issues a few months after having a baby but write it off as normal hormone wackiness. Thankfully I have always been good at knowing when something is a little "off" with my health, or I would have just dealt with this and never seen the doctor.

So anyway, I feel like the thyroid issue cleared up by the end of February, but I have still felt a little out of control. I kept telling myself it's because I have too much on my plate and this is normal, but that hasn't been a good enough answer for me. Then suddenly I woke up about a week ago and felt at peace. Life began feeling a lot easier and a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I have done absolutely nothing to get to this point, so what I want to know is who has been praying for me? The change is so significant that I swear you must have gotten Beth Moore herself to talk to God about my attitude. Well, whoever you are, keep up the good work. Life feels easy-peasy right now, and I would love to keep it that way. I don't believe in jinxes, so I'll say it again. Life. Is. Good.

So on to some randomness since I have lots of catching up to do. Mimi's last ballet class was a couple of weeks ago (tear), and I took her a little early in hopes of getting a beautiful, blown-up-frame-worthy kind of photo. And this is the silliness I got instead :)

Yes, this one is my favorite.

Can I tell you how much I love Baby Take a Bow? Each week has a theme, so they play a little game at the end of class incorporating some positions or dance moves they learned that day. They've had princess week, butterfly week, animal week, and some others, but last week was "Hollywood Week." Fun stuff.Tomorrow we are beginning Hip Hop classes, and you better believe I have the outfit ready. Can't wait to post those in, oh, two or three months. But I'm not stressing because it will get done and God is in control. I always get annoyed at overused, general statements like "God is in control" or "He won't give you more than you can handle" or "If it's meant to be, God will make it happen." But I'm feeling it now, so can I get a witness? He he. Anyway, this is Mimi and the owner Miss Kristen. We heart her.

And I'm rewinding a little to the last post because I am too lazy to add to it. I uploaded some photos from my phone and found this little guy on his first flight. Are you kissing your screen because I am. Sweetness. The girls in front of us were playing peek-a-boo with him and people passing us to go to the bathroom were stopping to say hi to him because he smiled the whole time. Except when he slept. Smiles, eats, and sleeps. What a great example to live by.

And Mimi mesmerized by the fluffy clouds.

I'm thinking of installing this airport carpet in our next house . . . what do you think?

So back to life being easy-peasy and F-U-N. Mack has hit the easy stage. He's sitting up and content with a couple of toys, and he's not quite rolling or scooting too far away yet. He goes to bed around 7:45 and is up by 6:30, so he's a little more on my early-to-bed schedule unlike my night-owl daughter. He and Mimi take baths together occasionally (sorry for the crappy photo), which cuts bath time in half AND is really, really funny.

He eats a ton of baby food, some of which I'm actually making myself (I am so not that kind of mom), so he's only nursing 3-4 times a day. Can you believe I'm still nursing (sorry guys, you can stop reading if you're uncomfortable)? With Mimi, she and I were both over it (the thyroid craziness made it worse) at four months, and I didn't feel one bit guilty about not sticking it out the full year. So I never realized that they actually don't need as much after they start eating baby food. Duh. Now I'm going to be that psycho mom who continues to nurse until he starts kindergarten because it's gotten easy and I'm too lazy to stop. Let's hope not. So he's a fantastic eater, sleeper, and sitter-upper. Other than a little bit of teething, I barely ever hear a whimper out of him, but I do hear lots of squeals. Mimi thinks they're pretty funny and she imitates them . . . which makes him squeal even more.

Mimi has even gotten easier. I thought Clint was going to cry today he was so happy that he asked Mimi to get a pillow for him and she actually did it. She is slowly beginning to listen to us and follow some directions. We still have a long way to go, but this is a huge breakthrough. She likes to take toys from Mack, and now when I tell her to give it back so they can play together or she won't play with it at all she pauses to think about the consequences for a minute before setting the toy down between them. But occasionally she still yells to me, "Mommy, baby Mack isn't sharing!"

But I did have a scare with her yesterday when we were leaving the Y. We joined a couple of months ago but other than Mimi's swim class we haven't been at all. That all changed this week with my newly found strength and energy, and I have been twice. This is HUGE for me because I despise gyms. Basically my routine has consisted of walking about 3/4 of a mile to the Y, checking the kids in, fumbling through my IPOD and Pandora for the perfect work-out background music, piddling on the treadmill and looking over the class schedule spreadsheet, and then stopping by Walgreen's for a Snicker's on the walk home. Anyway, yesterday as I was trying to get Mack situated in the stroller so we could leave I was letting Mimi dance around me with another little girl. I saw her run into the coat closet but then when I went to get her she wasn't there. I didn't panic because she absolutely loves to hide from me, so I assumed she was behind somebody's puffy, long coat. I continued bundling up Mack for another few seconds before I realized she's gone.

I glanced in the play area and didn't see her. I ran outside and immediately looked left toward a very crowded Lincoln Ave and began to panic. Then I realized I'd just left Mack alone also and before I could cry I heard, "Dere you are! I found you!" and my little Mimi who had on no coat and no shoes on a 32 degree day was to my right surrounded by a couple of worried moms. She ran into my arms and said, "Oh Mommy, I so sorry I run away. I was so scared. I sorry, Mommy." The whole way home she apologized and asked me if I was okay and if I was also scared. Yes, of course I was scared. I still want to vomit every time I think about it.

But back to some fun stuff which is Mimi and Clint. Daddy's girl. Mimi may have a perfect mixture of our facial features, but her personality is all Clint. She's dramatic and animated and likes to sort things and is sympathetic and honest. They were having a dance party downstairs at 10:00 last night while Mack and I were upstairs asleep.

My dramatic ballerina.

And back to the swim class I mentioned early. Mimi started this class a few weeks ago, and I'm so sad we didn't start it sooner. It seems to be the "dad class," and they sing silly songs and play with rubber duckies and watering cans and play games, and Miss Mimi has a blast. She was a little nervous at the first class and kept yelling, "I need to poo poo in the potty!" which is her way of getting out of an uncomfortable situation. And poor Clint got her out of the pool at least half a dozen times and peeled off her sticky, wet swimsuit only for her to tell him, "Nah, I not potty. I jump in the pool!"
Clint sent this photo to me while I was running an errand one day. Makes my heart smile.

Ahhh, Vitamin D

2011-03-20T10:04:00.009-05:00

I could find it in milk, but it's much nicer getting my Vitamin D from the sun . . . but it's kinda hard to do that in Chicago right now. Seriously, the highs this week are in the mid-30's, and I'm so over it. Everyone told me to be afraid of the winter, but my advice to newbies is be afraid of the Spring -- because it is NEVER coming. Yes, I'm exaggerating. We have had a couple of sunny days in the 50's, and you better believe I squeezed every second out of the daylight hours at the park on those days. But now I am seeing beautiful photos on Facebook of Southern friends with their little ones outdoors in short-sleeved shirts (okay, those are actually short-sleeved smocked dresses and John-Johns, which I will not be seeing in Chicago anytime soon!), and I have to admit it -- I'm jealous. I want to see buttercups and cherry trees and those crazy bright yellow bushes in bloom, like, right now. I have spotted a couple of hyacinth-looking green things sprouting from the ground . . . but then they got a nice sprinkling of snow a couple of mornings ago that may have put an end to them.

We were warned this could happen -- the winter crazies -- so we made a trip to sunny Orlando to get our Vitamin D fix. As excited as I was about this wonderfully warm break, I was nervous as H-E-double hockey sticks about the actual travel. We have never flown with one child much less two children. Let me remind you that I do not have well-behaved seven-year-olds who can walk calmly next to me and go to the restroom on their own. I have a teething, squealing, still nursing six-month-old (well, seven months now my post is so far behind), and a sassy 2 1/2 year old freshly potty-trained monkey child who BOTH had some serious snotty sinuses, which never goes well with travel. Since I've had children, I have paid close attention in the airport to the parents who were sane with calm angels and the frazzled ones who had to deal with the screaming little demons. How could I learn from them and be prepared? The ones with calm children were calm themselves. Check -- I can appear to be calm. They had a bag full of new toys, crayons, and movies loaded on some sort of IPOD or laptop. Check -- Mimi loves to watch cartoons on my IPhone, and I made a pit stop at the toy section in Target right before we left. The frazzled ones seemed upset that their children wouldn't sit still and be quiet, and they were yelling and threatening and basically making everyone in the area uncomfortable. But then I had noticed parents who appeared to be sweet and calm and prepared, but their children were still going nutso in the security line. Yikes. This was going to be me.

But it wasn't. I'm still smiling ear to ear thinking about how pleased I am with how well the travel went. First of all, I was the most efficient packer ever for this trip. I fit all of Mimi's, Mack's, and my things into one large suitcase. I only took one extra pair of shoes for myself, which still surprises me. Clint left Mack, who was strapped to me in the Baby Bjorn, and me at the terminal along with the luggage, and we checked in curbside. He parked and brought Mimi in the little umbrella stroller, and the security line was luckily not very long. There were no meltdowns going through security, and then we only had about 20 minutes to spare at the terminal. This time flew after taking Mimi to the potty several times and letting her pick out the best pack of M&M's and a coloring book in a store. And the flight alone for Mimi could have been her vacation, and she would have been pleased. She was SO excited about the take-off and landing that it made everyone around us excited about being on a plane. She was perfectly happy with her new Strawberry Shortcake and Littlest Pet Shop toys that I don't even think she asked to watch cartoons, which is just not normal for her. Mack made friends with everyone who passed us in the airport and on the plane. Fat little cutie.

Anywho, I'll stop bragging about how fantastic they were on the plane. We chose Orlando because our sweet friends Shea and Matt and their daughter Kendal live there, and we were desperately in need of a visit. Shea and I have been great friends since we were skinny junior high cheerleaders with braces and tight-rolled jeans, and she has been my saving grace since we moved to Chicago. She and Matt moved to Orlando from Missouri when she was well into her pregnancy with Kendal, so she knew what it felt like to be in a new place trying to make friends when it's difficult to even get out of the house. She has had a job for as long as I can remember and dealt with the same changes of suddenly becoming a stay-at-home mom. And what did we do on this trip?

This:

And this:

And this, too:

And a little of this:

Oh, yes. Even a little of this:

Aaagh. Disney World. I'm not a fan. I probably shouldn't admit that since I have lots of Disney-loving-border-line-obsessed friends, but the thought of going to Disney World makes me break out in hives. The lines. The overpriced food. The confusing Fast Passes. The guy who stands way too close to me in line and is from a country that hasn't introduced deodorant yet. I'm not hating on Mickey Mouse because I was obsessed with the Disney Channel when I was little, and there's very little I love more than watching Mimi sing the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Hot Dog song and shake her little booty. BUT Matt is an art director for Disney, so we were able to check it out for free -- why not? I knew Mimi would either love it or hate it, and we had nothing to lose. In a nutshell, we had lunch and rode It's a Small World, and I think we'd all had enough. We'll try again in a few years. We took that one photo on our way out of the Magic Kingdom just to prove we tried.

So we went back to Shea's to do a little more of this:

He he he. Mack and Kendal heart each other. Shea was a little concerned about how Kendal would act around a little one, but she was oh so sweet. She shared toys with him and gently petted his bald head, and he loved watching her. Clint thought it might be a good idea for them to practice some stunts. Geez.But Mimi acted a little differently. She hasn't really been around other children on a regular basis since we moved to Chicago, so we have a lot to work on. And she's a normal two-year-old, so I'm definitely not beating myself up about this, but girlfriend was a little snobby. There were some moments where she and Kendal would laugh at each other and hold hands running through the house, but most of the time Mimi was practicing phrases such as, "No. Get away. Do NOT take my teddy bear. Do NOT eat my poods (food). DON'T touch me. STOP IT!" Sigh. We also found out while we were there that she had double ear infections, which definitely didn't help with Prissy's mood. So she chose to play by herself most of the time while Mack and Kendal giggled at each other. The morning after we returned home Mimi asked me, "Mommy, can I fly on the airplane to Matt and Shea's and play with Kendal and tell her to not take my teddy bear and you tell me that's not nice? Please, Mommy? I wanna see Kendal." Of course she did.

But this was Mack's mood the entire trip. No matter where we were. No matter what we did.

There was yet another added bonus to this trip. My other skinny junior high cheerleader BF Jessica, who lives in El Paso, just happened to be working in Orlando the week we were there! Jes and Shea lived together their first year of college, and then Jessica and I lived together the next so we were a tightly-knit threesome for a while. We've tried to stay in touch the best we could but living hundreds of miles apart just stinks. After a few minutes together the Mississippi accents (and gossip!) began to come out while we all talked at the same time but heard and understood everything the other person said. The three of us haven't been together at the same time in years, but it didn't feel that way. After moving on to finish at different colleges and then moving far from home and marriage and children and jobs and all the other things that have gone along with our growing up, I don't think we've really grown apart much. We're still just as silly as we once were. And I'm so happy about that.

Okay, so hopefully I can crank out a few more posts before the weekend is over. No promises though :).

I'm drowning . . .

2011-03-17T22:29:00.005-05:00

. . . but am trying my best to doggy paddle and catch my breath . . .

For the past month I have averaged about 5 minutes of free time a day, which usually occur at random times. Those few seconds I allow myself to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling before peeling the covers off. When I sit down in my car in the morning and stare at the dash for a minute trying to remember exactly what it is that I do between 8:00 and 5:00. The doctor who is finishing up with a patient and makes me wait just another minute. The fifteen seconds that I stand still waiting on Ruthie to finish her business outside. The minute I stare at my sleeping baby in his crib before I go to bed.

And then I wake up and start all over again. Before I know it the days pass. Then the weeks. Then an entire month. This is great for a person in jail but not so good for a mommy who wants to hold on to every adorable sound and cry and word from my children. When some people see how busy my life is, they have told me the ridiculous statement "this too shall pass." Seriously, shut up. I don't want this to pass. I am not trying to hurry this stage of my life. I love to hear Mack cry because it means he needs me. I love to watch Mimi try to sneak away at a restaurant because it means she's smart and independent. Why wish it to hurry?

In the past month Mack has gotten his first two teeth and is sitting up. He flew on a plane for the first time and visited Disney World. He attempts to drink out of a sippy cup and gnaws on graham crackers. He laughs harder than the "baby ripping paper" on You Tube and eats more than a fat man. And he is without a doubt the cutest baby alive. I am not modest about this. Mack is my heart and I am head over heels in love with him.

Mimi has become a little girl. She doesn't act like a toddler. Girlfriend doesn't "toddle" anywhere. She walks with authority and her head held high. She has no problem telling me what she wants to order at a restaurant and when she needs to potty. She told me her ears were hurting and thanked me after I gave her the yucky antibiotic. She was a champ through the security line at the airport and the long and winding one for "It's a Small World." When I tell her she needs to be patient, she responds with, "Okay. Alright, Mommy." Within the three minutes we were waiting on our car in a parking garage, she had climbed in the security guard's lap and was helping her pass out keys. This week she has had some type of fever virus and has not felt good at all. But she sat still and thanked the doctor and nurses who checked her. She has also become more sympathetic. If Clint coughs or sneezes, she asks, "You okay, Daddy?" When Tinkerbell can't seem to do anything right, Mimi makes me look at the TV and says, "Oh, Mommy. Tinkerbell so sad. What happened?" When Mack is crying she tells me we need to check on him. She threw a toy in the air a few days ago, and it smacked Mack right in the middle of his forehead. And guess who cried more? My tough little bubby stuck out his bottom lip and fussed for a few seconds, and then Mimi completely fell apart and told him how sorry she was.

I don't know how I could love my children or the time I spend with them any more than I do. So it is not always fun for me to go to work anymore. I don't know why it is so different now than it was when I was in Memphis, but I miss them much more during the day. Okay, that's a lie. I do know why it's different. First of all, the actual job isn't too different -- believe it or not it's even better. I am beginning to really like most of my offices and the areas I visit, and we have a much better product to sell. But I do have to drive at least 45 minutes to get to my closest office (and about 3 hours to a few of them), and this could be longer on the way home if I hit the Loop downtown at the wrong time. I knew this when I started, but I had no idea how hard it would be to finish my work day only to realize that it might be a very long time before I ever get near my house and my babies. So I do like my job and working, but it's really kicking my butt right now. I need to apologize because I don't mean to sound so angry and bitter. I'm just really, really tired and overwhelmed with trying to balance work and family and I guess I need to vent.

So this is my excuse for being a crappy blogger lately. And pretty much crappy at everything else I once did for my personal enjoyment. Such as my new found love for sewing. I haven't even pulled out my sewing machine since I started working. I haven't read so much as a magazine article much less a book in months. But people do it all the time and have many more children and work longer hours than I do. And they still love their children and their children love them. Sigh. I think I need to DVR a few episodes of the Dugger shows and watch them while I'm getting ready in the morning for some perspective. Don't worry. I will catch up with pictures and funny stories before too long . . . I just need to take some swim lessons to figure out how to get out of this ocean . . .

Love, Love, Love, Love . . .

2011-02-13T10:27:00.006-06:00

. . . . Crazy Love.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY.

A Very Blustery Day

2011-02-12T08:30:00.007-06:00

Our first winter in Chicago is proving to be quite, well, wintery. Up until a couple of weeks ago, the Darby family felt like we were dealing with the cold and slush like champs -- we actually have been really, really excited every time we've seen the big flakes falling and watching the puppies play in the snow in the park across the street and bundling the babies up in their fuzzy hats and mittens. If there was no snow, then there would be no reason for me to wear my Hunters. There's nothing like stomping through knee-deep snow in tall boots. But we had no idea what we were in for with the blizzardy conditions that arrived last week. Jeepers.

And this is why Chicago had two snow days in a row.

Because Mack is so, so cute. Yes, that's one reason. But 22 inches of fluffy white stuff is the other one. (Quite a bit more still fell from the sky after I took this photo.)

We had our milk, diapers, and wine, so we had to no reason to leave the house. But of course Mimi and I got the go-go's and ventured out. As did everyone else.
We live on Damen, a fairly busy street where I can never look out the window and not see a car. Quite the opposite after the blizzard. Everyone thought it was so cool to walk down the street instead of the sidewalks. One guy looked at Mimi and me as we were making our way down the street and said, "Did you ever think you'd let your kid play in the middle of Damen?" Honestly we couldn't get down the sidewalks and the street was easier since a few buses and stupid cab drivers attempted to drive and wore down some snow. Here's the side street. Some of those cars are still sitting in their spots and waiting on the warm temps we will have this week to thaw some of the snow (I can't believe I would ever think of 36 degrees as "warm"). It is funny to see people place plastic chairs and paint buckets in their empty spots after they've shoveled out their cars. And don't you dare move those chairs or you can expect to see a very angry person taking a baseball bat to the windshield.

Even after all of this, I still love the snow. Maybe because snow in this quantity is still so new to me, and I'm finally learning how to get around in it. White snow can make almost anything look beautiful and clean. When it all melts and I can see trash and mud and yuck again, I might change my mind.

Mimi loved throwing snow balls at me. In the face. While I was holding our expensive camera.

She kept trying to eat it off her mitten. Yesterday we were walking to ballet, and it took forever because she kept trying to pick up nasty chunks off the sidewalk saying, "I taste it, Mommy!" Yuck.

My Southern friends keep asking me how we're doing our first winter in Chicago and can't believe we're not ready to move back to Tennessee yet. It's not half as bad as you'd think. Southerners sometimes forget that people have been living and working and getting around with children in this weather for a very long time. You still have to run errands. The kids still need to get out of the house. People still run outside in shorts. The Bears still don't wear Under Armour. Okay, that last I just do not get. Anyway, we just put on puffy coats and hats and really cool snow boots, and life goes on.

And this summer when it's 85 degrees with low humidity here I'll be asking you "How can you live in the South?"

I Hope You Dance

2011-01-30T16:31:00.013-06:00

I have big dreams for Mimi, and one of them is that she will be a contestant on one of my very favorite TV shows So You Think You Can Dance. If you're a fan of the show, I'm sure you secretly wish the same for your daughter, but it's no secret around here. Mimi will be a great dancer . . . at least I hope.

An amazing dancer must start somewhere, so we started with ballet.

Oh my goodness. Have you ever seen anything more precious?

We enrolled Mimi in the Tutu Tots class at Baby Take a Bow. It is absolutely the cutest dance studio I've ever seen, and the owner Kristin and Mimi's teacher Nikki are so sweet and patient with my little monkey. When I registered Mimi, all of the 2-year-old classes were full, so we decided she was mature enough for the 3-4-year-old class. Ha ha ha haaa . . . yeah, right. At the beginning of the classes, she has been so excited to be there that she followed the other girls in and sat on her carpet circle.

About three minutes into stretches Mimi's attitude totally changed. She noticed herself in the mirror and made funny faces and twirled and kicked her little slippered foot out into the air. She marched around the other girls in circles while singing Frosty the Snowman to the top of her lungs. She ran and jumped and squealed with delight. She threw herself on the floor and announced that she was very sleepy and was going night-night. Meanwhile the others learned first position and "teddy bear arms." So maybe ballet might not be her thing, but I'm not giving up hope just yet. We're trying Hip Hop for the spring session, which might be her thing.

I can't quite remember what the issue was that she had with Isabella's shoe, but it must have been pretty funny.

And I truly hope that she dances.

Last week I was working near Peoria, which I've realized is southern Illinois. Okay, basically anything south of the Chicago suburbs is considered southern Illinois. Lots of beautiful farmland and gigantic windmill contraptions. And country music. I haven't heard country music on a radio station since I've lived in Chicago, so as I was flipping channels a warm, fuzzy feeling grew within me as Lee Ann Womack sang.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

Ah, tears. I get so overwhelmed with all of Mimi's energy and curiosity at times, but I couldn't be happier about the little girl she's becoming.

I'm also pretty happy about how Mack is, well, so stinkin' happy. I don't mean that he's just pleasant -- he's HAPPY with a capital H. All. The. Time.

I can never be upset when I see his sweet little squinty smile. I can't seem to get a video to upload on blogger in less than a bazzillion hours, but I did post a hilarious video of his cackle on Facebook recently. I've never seen a baby laugh as much as he does. Whenever I need calming down from sitting in ridiculous traffic, I just pull up that video on my phone and laugh until I have tears in my eyes.

How great are these legs?

I hope Mack dances, too. And not after some girl has to force him or after he has had a few beers. Watch out, dance floor. The Darbys are taking over.

But whether Mimi is a ballerina or not, she will always be a princess. Excuse me, I mean a "pwinsthesth." We can't stop making her say it with her sweet little lisp. We keep her dress-up clothes in a pull-out drawer in the ottoman, and when she gets restless and wild I'll tell her to look in the drawer because there's a surprise.

"A thurpwise? Oh, wow! My pwinsthesth dwesh!"

And the little ugly burgundy velveteen thing in her arms deserves an introduction. Meet Teddy Bear.

There's a funny story behind Teddy Bear. There's a restaurant in Memphis named Mortimer's that normally serves people above the age of 50 with meat and veggies and food I normally don't find appealing . . . but I was pregnant at the time, so just go with it. Anyway, this was at a time that eating at a restaurant with Miss Priss was quite difficult, so Clint had gulped down his dinner as quickly as possibly so he could entertain Mimi. He let her run around the bar while I finished eating, and meanwhile they made friends with a nice lady who was sitting at the bar. The lady left after a while and returned with a present for Mimi -- the little velvet bear. She told Clint she lived near the restaurant and had a box full of toys for whenever her grandchildren visited. So we left Mortimer's that night with an old bear that reeked of cigarette smoke and moth balls. I have tried to hide Teddy Bear at the bottom of the toy basket, but he emerged about a month ago. The two have been inseparable.

And speaking of another two who've been inseparable . . . they're beginning to like each other a little more. Makes my heart smile.

Ringing in the New Year

2011-01-16T09:32:00.008-06:00

I love the idea of a new year -- a time to start over. I like to say things like, "Oh, I'll get to that after the new year." Okay, maybe I like to think it's the time to take care of my procrastination. I mean, what else do I have to do when there is no shopping, decorating, or traveling and packing to do . . . just snow and coldness and staying inside? This year I not only plan to write down my goals but also how I plan to reach these goals. Yes, I'm a salesperson with goals and this is how I function. So my goals for the new year are as follows:

1.) Spend more date nights with my husband. If we don't have time alone, then we start to get mad at each other for no reason. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but I think we forget to talk to each other when the babies are around. You know, at least talk about things only pertaining to us as adults like silly nonsense that no one else would understand. Inside jokes and such. Lucky for us we have a fantastic nanny who is willing to work late occasionally, and if she can't then she has about 100 other girlfriends who might be able to do so. We are doing a good job with this one so far. We went out to a fantastic dinner the night before New Year's (that's the thing to do when you get old and don't feel the need to fight the crowds), went to see Weezer (SO FUN! School of Rock even performed a couple of Weezer songs in between sets. Yes, there is a such school, and it's only a couple of blocks from my house), and we have tickets to Wicked for next week. Also, we just got David Gray tickets, and I am so grateful to my sweet hubby for all this. I don't expect the dates to always be this extravagant, but it's a great way to start out a new year.

Since we had no plans on NYE, Clint decided to make a fantastic steak and lobster dinner for us. It was a first for making lobster, and it was yummo! Good wine also helps.

2.) Potty train Mimi. This one I wanted to go back on because it really seemed like a lot of trouble. She could basically change her own diaper, so why rock the boat? Because she's smart enough to use the potty, that's why, so we bit the bullet and dove right in. Lacy showed up my first day back to work after New Year's, and she had a plan. Thank goodness because I didn't. She set her phone alarm for every 5 minutes to take Mimi to the bathroom, and they basically spent that Monday in the bathroom. There were a few accidents that day, and they talked about using the potty when she needed to go. Thank goodness when I got home that night there were no accidents. And there were no accidents the next day. By the weekend she was out of the diaper at night. 99.9% of the credit goes to Lacy, and thank goodness she knows more about kids than I do.

The convos from the bathroom are hilarious now. With a very determined tone and serious face she said to me one night, "Mommy, I not poo poo in my pants. I only poo poo in the potty. I not poo poo my pants ANY. MORE." Okay, okay, Mimi. Don't be so hard on yourself. When I'm not looking she occasionally gets the potty seat and holds it up to her face while singing some silly song about, "Look at me, I'm celery," that she learned from Olivia the Pig." She sings and reads books and tells stories. But she gets the job done. Big girl.

3.) Get Mimi to sleep in her big girl bed. I don't know when or how this will happen because she loves the crib. We tried for a few nights and failed, so any suggestions will be great.

4.) Finish thank you notes from Mack's baby gifts. It's a work in progress.

5.) Find more time to sew. How do I go about getting more hours added to the day? I see all these wonderful children's clothes, and I know I can make them -- and I even have tons of fabric and a sewing machine and patterns. All I need is more time.

6.) Not get stressed about work. I let it become stressful recently, and that is a big no-no. I can only do a certain amount of things from 7:30-5:30, and I have to let go of what I cannot do.

7.) Soak up every second of Mack's baby-ness. It is going by sooo fast. He's rolling over, laughing like crazy, eating baby food, holding and playing with his toys, and he makes sweet sounds and is so soft and smells so good.

And he's getting bigger . . . thank goodness he is, but I can't help but want him to stay little.

LOVES his jumperoo. It's difficult for me to get a good pic because he won't stop jumping. Mimi still wasn't even big enough to get in this thing at this age.
8.) Try to make my children love each other. I try so hard to get good photos of them, and this is what Mimi does, "I go night-night, Mommy. I not take picture with baby Mack. I go to sleep." Seriously? I have a million of her being a little sass, and he is laughing at her. There's probably not much I can do about this, but I'm going to try. I try to force Mimi to hold him and kiss him and play with him, and she just squirms away because she's way too busy for baby Mack.

Finally.

9.) Try to remember the funny stuff Mimi says:

"I wear my toot-toot (her word for tutu)! I not like my jommers!" She likes to run around naked in her "toot-toot."

"Oh no! Ru-ru, don't touch the pire (fire)! It's too hot and danger-uch!"

"Water!! Whoooooa, water!" and then she laughs hysterically. We don't really know what this means, but she started saying it to Clint when he read books to her at night.

At night when we put her down for bed, she asks us, "Will you pwease sing Jesus loves me this I know they are weak he is strong?"

"Mommy, here 'da mote control. I watch Woody-Buzz! I watch Monsters! I watch Bwangelinga (Angelina Ballerina)!"

Every day when I get home from work she runs to me to give me a big hug and says, "Mommy! I so glad you're here!"

When we ask Mimi if she's ready to go night-night, she responds with, "No thanks. I dance." or she says, "No thanks. Maybe later."

All meals are called "lunch."

She has a problem with tooting and then announcing it to the world. Guess who taught her that one.

10.) Be happy. I know that sounds like a silly goal, but I totally think it's a choice. Sometimes we like to think that the whole world is against us and we're so unlucky, but have you ever been around people who are less fortunate but are really, really happy? Some of the most negative people I have ever met have so much more than they could ever need -- family, friends, a warm home -- but they choose to be pissy. So I'll choose to not be. I have absolutley everything I could possibly need. I'm not in jail. I'm not in the hospital. I will not stress about a dirty house or not having time to make dinner. I can order pizza or sushi delivery. I will not stress about traffic. I have Pandora and an IPod. There is so much for me to be happy about that there's not enough time for me to be unhappy and stressed.