12:21.

It's 1a.m.   I can't sleep because I have adrenaline coursing through my veins. 

Tonight I went out for a "run".  I went with no expectations.  No plans.  Just my husband kicking my ass out the door because I mentioned that I might try to run and he wasn't going to let me make excuses. 

I felt like it was going to be ugly.  No, worse than ugly.  I mean, I haven't moved faster than what's absolutely necessary to keep up with my children in almost 9 months.  And I'm getting over a cold.  And I now weigh just 2 pounds less than when I was full term preggo with the Brothers.  And while all of those things should be reasons to get out there, they've so far been reasons to stay on the couch. 

So as I wandered very reluctantly out the door, I fired up Runkeeper and picked a workout.  A nice, easy 20 minute workout.  I can do anything for 20 minutes.  I think.

I walked for a few minutes, slowly picking up my pace until the Runkeeper lady told me to start running.  So I ran.  I just kept a nice steady pace.  Nothing that stress my lungs, but brisk enough to work up a really good sweat. 

It wasn't actually too hard to keep going.  Brian waited for me at the corner near our house, not saying much as I ran by, just showing me that he's there for me.    He is, and always will be, my biggest supporter. 

The last few minutes were tough.  I looked at my phone at one point, saw that I only had 0.17 miles to go and laughed at myself.  So close!  Just.Keep.Moving.

When Runkeeper lady told me to walk, I started crying.  I just ran a mile.  Without stopping.  Here I am - hella overweight asthmatic girl with a cold who hasn't run in 9 months.  And I ran a mile.  Self-doubt = shattered. 

I walked home at a pretty brisk pace so that I could share my excitement with Bri.  When I pulled up my splits, I couldn't believe my eyes when it said that I did my mile in 12:21. 

TWELVE MINUTES AND TWENTY ONE SECONDS.  Yes.  I'm yelling.  That needs to be yelled.

That, my friends, is fast for me.  And while it's literally half the speed at which my husband runs, he was so damn proud of me too.  Because I got out there and got out of my own head and didn't let myself talk me out of if.  9 months of no running, 30+ pounds heavier, and I just ran a whole mile.  

I still feel like I'm on cloud 9.  I can't wait to run again tomorrow.  No really.  I'm totally serious. This, my friends, is the start of something very cool.  I can feel it.  

Ups, downs, ins, outs, & what-have-yous.

Yesterday I received a package from my dear friend and college roomie, Kristin.  Accompanying a sweet birthday card was a journal - The Happiness Project: A One-Sentence Journal for Mothers.  I have to say, it's one of the most thoughtful gifts I think I have ever received.

As a Mom, I try to grasp and savor sweet memories while trying to remember who's diaper I changed and which kid already got his milk.  And I'm often so busy recording things about the boys that I don't often have the chance to record my own thoughts and feelings.

A big part of my struggle with postpartum depression and anxiety has been a loss of sense of self.  Over the past year and a half, I feel like I've come so far in my ability to recognize the importance of taking time for myself before I get to a breaking point.

But the reality of motherhood is that sometimes there just isn't time.  Going shopping alone takes time.  Having a night out with the hubby or the girls or alone takes time.  More sleep takes time!  So we have to turn to quicker things -- things that give us small outlets until we can feasibly take that time for ourselves.

That's what I love about the concept of this journal -- it's just one sentence.  To take the time to write just one sentence about the day is totally and completely doable.  And there is something so therapeutic about reading my own journals.  So I was quite excited to embark on this journey.  One sentence a day.  No problem.

Yesterday I was feeling really good.  Actually, lately I've been feeling really good, but yesterday I actually noticed it.

I felt like I actually accomplished some things.  Not just one thing, but several.  For once I felt like I was thismuchcloser to getting caught up around the house.

The boys played together pretty well.  There was minimal chaos, they played fairly independently, and I didn't have to break up too many death matches or stop more than a few death-defying acts.

Brian worked late and I handled bath and bed and cleaning up the house solo ... and smoothly.  When he came home I was happily crafting a little wall art for the kitchen and I happily proclaimed my successes for the day.

Last night, in my journal I wrote these words -- " Today I finally felt successful - as a mother, a wife, a housekeeper, a teacher, a friend."

Today was so.incredibly.different.

The Brothers woke up early.  And angry.  I packed the diaper bag for a planned play date while we waited for Brennan to wake up.  Of course, the ever-early-riser slept late, pushing us a bit behind schedule and making an already bumpy morning even bumpier.  Every step to get them dressed and into the car was quadrupled in time and difficulty.  Everything I did was met with resistance and anger.

Thankfully, my friend Lisa and I do "kiddo swaps" in which she watches the boys for a few hours for me and the next day I watch her kiddos for her.  So I was able to enjoy some time to myself, exploring a new grocery store and regrouping for the day.

When I returned to Lisa's house, Beckett clung to me.  Kiernan tried to push Beckett off of my lap while Lisa and I ate lunch.  Loading them into the car was even more challenging than it had been on the way to Lisa's.  They whined the whole way home, clung to my legs while I tried to unpack the groceries, threw tempter tantrums at nap time, and threw their sippy cups of milk at the wall/my face.

Brennan refused a nap and resisted quiet time.  The Brothers woke after only 1.5 hours of sleep with even more anger/clinginess.  By 4:30, my house was a disaster, the Brothers were only happy if I was holding them - both of them - while standing, Brennan had cut a hole in his shirt and "accidentally" colored his hands purple with a marker, and I had nothing planned for dinner.

I called Brian and requested that he make coming home a priority.  I finally got Brennan and Kiernan to sit and watch some Team UmiZoomi, strapped Beckett on my back in the Boba, and started to put laundry away in my bedroom so that I could feel just a tiny bit productive.

When Brian came home, I left.  I thank God every day for a sympathetic husband.  He jumped in and took over, no questions asked.

I wandered around Joann Fabrics and Target and sat at Starbucks to clear my head.  I started thinking about what I would write in my journal tonight, and the first thing that came to mind was -- "Today I just couldn't please anyone, including myself."

What struck me about this was the lack of hopelessness & the lack of feeling like a failure.  When I had this kind of a day a year ago, it would've taken me days, if not weeks to rebound.  But now, I know how to cope.  I know how to ask for "me" time.  I know that tomorrow is a new day and that it could be like yesterday, or it could be like today, but chances are, it will be somewhere in between.  And I'm cool with the in between.  

I think that's what is great about this journal.  The ability to see that my emotions are constantly changing and that no matter how bad it gets, it always gets better, is nothing short of miraculously calming.  And the opportunity to take a few moments in a day to reflect on the past, learn from the present, and focus on the future -- in one sentence -- is equally as calm

Three is going to kill me.

No, not having 3 kids.  Although, I did read this article the other day which made me feel a smidge better about life.  Raising 3 kids = Hard as shit.  Solidarity, sisters.

What's really killing me is raising a 3 year old.  Dear God, I love him with all my heart and soul.  I really really really do.  And when he throws his arms around me and tells me that he loves me and covers my face with kisses, I melt into a giant puddle.

But holy rage, can he ever spit some fire.  The temper tantrums these days are EPIC.  They're louder, longer, and more dramatic than ever before.  Most days, I find it best to be very matter of fact with him and just ignore the meltdowns when the occur.  But there are some days when I feel like he's punching me in the face with his snippy little 'tude all day long and it makes Mommy wanna reach for the sangria.

I remember telling people when he was 2 that he was "very much 2" with his opinions and frustrations and tantrums.  Were they frustrating?  Of course.  Especially because I had 2 infants to take care of on top of the crazy toddler.  But I think the difference was that I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  I mean, it had to be frustrating to not be able to understand why you can't have certain things or can't do certain things yourself.  And really, the tantrums weren't all that often.  Maybe once or twice a day.

The problem with 3 is that now he can understand those things.  He knows that he isn't allowed to do certain things because he could get hurt.  He'll yell "YOU pick up my cup!!" when I ask him to pick up his cup that he tossed on the ground because he didn't feel like getting up.  He'll look me straight in the eye and lie to me when I ask him if he wrote on the couch with chalk, even though we both know that I know he did it.  And the tantrums are more frequent and the whining is constant.  Constant.  He woke up at 5:30 this morning and every.single.thing he said to me for the entire day was a whine.

I think that part of the problem is that I hold him to a high standard.  And as an oldest child who felt like my parents held me to a higher standard for my entire life, I always swore that I wouldn't do it to my kids.  I try really hard to remind myself frequently that he is only 3.  I try to keep my expectations of him age appropriate.  I also try not to eat a half of a bag of chips when I'm stressed out, but that doesn't always happen.

We'll get through it.  At night, we always snuggle up for stories and kisses and I say a prayer of thanks that God provides these little moments.  They're a reminder that he's my sweet boy and we're just going through some growing pains.  I've heard that 4 is blissful compared to 3, so we're powering through to October.

Jesus help me when the Brothers turn 3.  Someone send wine.

Perspective.

To say that the last few weeks have been overwhelming would be an understatement.  

Brian has been travelling for essentially a solid 3 weeks and I've been holding down the fort at home.  It's not easy for either of us and I think we're both desperate for a little normalcy.

Last weekend my car decided to take a poop, and it's been in the shop since then.

Brian came home from Michigan last week limping around because his knee hurt.  Apparently he just woke up one night and it was throbbing.  At first I thought he was being dramatic, but after seeing him wince and hearing him cry out with the slightest graze to his knee, I knew it was serious.  This was not simply a man-injury that would blow over at the first chance to go do something fun and physical.

OK, that's not entirely true.  He did make one attempt to run through the sprinkler with Brennan on Saturday.  I caught it on camera, Brennan had a blast, and Brian hobbled back to the chair seriously regretting his decision.  Yep, not just a man-injury.

I'm still alive ... barely.

I'm just being dramatic.  

I'm fine.  

I've been working my arse off around my house trying not to let it fall down and keep it's occupants alive.  

The mister has been home for only 3 of the last 16 days.  He finally comes home tomorrow and has no more business trips planned for the near future.  That I know of anyway.  Hallelujah.

Being a single parent is hard ya'll.  And I only have to do it for a relatively short period of time and don't have to worry about that whole making money thing.  I just hand over the plastic for what we need and at some point somebody pays the bill.  

(And then that person complains about how much money we spend on food.  Dude.  We have 3 boys.  It's just going to get worse.  I'm sure I'll end up working 3 jobs someday in order to feed them.)  

Anywho, semi-singleparenthood sucks.  We get out and have friends over and keep busy and they do entertaining shit like decide that they hate clothes and love accessories and insist on wearing nothing but diapers, socks, shoes, and sunglasses.   My kids are awesome.  

Mom's Morning Out ... or lack thereof.

Today was one of those rough parenting days.

Not because the boys were hard to deal with.  They were, but that's just a day in the life.

It was one of those days when you start to doubt your decisions.  I really really hate those days.  I'll take hard to deal with kids any day over those days.

I have been taking Brennan to a Mom's Morning Out program at a church near our home since the fall.  It's a drop-in setup on Tuesdays and Thursdays between 8am and noon, so we use it as needed/desired, without having to commit and pay a fee whether he goes or not.  It's not a structured learning environment, just a place where he can go to socialize with other kids and get a little independent time away from Mommy.  He really seems to enjoy going to "school".  

When the brothers were still taking a morning nap, I dropped Brennan off at the church and took Beckett & Kiernan back home with me to nap.  The MMO ladies would often comment that I should leave them so that I could get some time to myself, but I knew better than to mess with naptime.  

3 can't last forever.

This one.

Oh, my Brennan will be the death of me.  

I always said that 16-20ish months was my least favorite age span.  While it's a fun time because they learn so much, they're also caught in this struggle between GET AWAY MOMMY I CAN DO IT MYSELF and DEAR GOD MOMMY WHY DID YOU LEAVE MY LINE OF SIGHT?!  

These legs were made for climbing.

My boys are climbers.  

 

They are ALWAYS climbing on something.  Toys, furniture, people ... 

... the sand table, kitchen chairs ...

 

Hello.....

::knock knock::

Anyone still there?

Honest to God, life is simply insane lately.  We got a ton of stuff accomplished yesterday and yet the list still remains 12 miles long.  And in 2 days I get on a plane to head back to the mitten (yes, again) to start another semester of classes.  ::gag::

My therapist tells me that I'm dealing with it "quite well".  I feel like I'm not dealing with it at all.  Who knows who's right.  Maybe a little of both?

Truthfully, I'm just in a funk.  I'm crawling out of it and I think that my solo trip to Michigan will allow me the time to clear my head and come back refreshed.  I'm going to consider it my vacation from my vacation.  And hopefully get caught up on a crap ton of writing.  Because that's something else my therapist tells me to do.

Buzz Lightyear + Splashpad + Dinos + Legos = lots of happy boys.

Today started like any other day.  No plans necessarily, just some things to accomplish around the house.  But Brian and I were both kinda feeling the itch to get out of the house and enjoy the nice weather.  We threw around a few ideas - the park, the zoo, the library.  Eh.  Nothing sounded particularly fun and exciting.  

Some friends of ours were visiting Orlando last week and mentioned that they enjoyed Downtown Disney for a nice little stroll, so I threw it out there as a fairly cheap possibility.  It's free to wander around, so we decided to brave the crazy shopper traffic and head over to Orlando.

On the way there they boys napped while Brian and I chatted.  As we got closer we noticed something in the sky ahead.  It turned out to be an (amateur?) skywriter writing "Thank U Jesus" and "Jesus Loves U" in the sky.  It was fun to guess what the next letter would be.  Kinda like Wheel of Fortune.

13.1.

Well, I did it.  I didn't get picked up by the slow people bus.

I ran/walked for 13.1 straight miles through the parks of Disney with 11,599 other mental patients like myself and finished before 1783 poor souls.  We started at the ESPN Wide World of Sports, curved through Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, and ended at Epcot.  All in the dark of night.  The Disney Wine and Dine Half Marathon is truly unlike any other race I've ever experienced.  And I haven't run many other races, but I sure as hell have watched a lot.  I'm here to tell you, though, that running one is very different than watching one.

Post-race at Epcot

I've been told by some people that running a marathon (full or half) is like childbirth - it's long, hard, and painful, but incredibly worth it in the end.

Whoever said this must have been a man.

Twin Weight Tuesday {11.6.12}.

This is going to be short and sweet.

Down another pound.  So that's great.

Ran 9 miles on Saturday.  It was my last long run before my race this Sunday and it felt good.  I feel less nervous about the race than I did, but I'm still hella nervous.

This week is gonna be hard to squeeze runs in with all of my travel, but I think I have it figured out.

While the weight is dripping off a bit slowly, I'm definitely losing inches.  I haven't taken measurements recently, but things are fitting better and I'm branching out with my wardrobe choices .... mama even bought some skinny jeans.  Holy hell.

I know, horizontal stripes are a no-no, but it's so comfy!  

A Not-So-Normal Day in the Life.

So this morning I decided to do an Instagram "Day in the Life" series.  Except that I also discovered that we were completely out of dog food and therefore needed to make a Target run.  Usually I either plan outings the day before or we go after naptime, but I didn't feel like starving my dogs all day long, so I kicked it into high gear.

8:00am - The Brothers wake up and are ready to cause some trouble.  I get green smoothies made and pop some Eggos in the toaster for breakfast.  Talk about a mix of healthy and not-so-healthy.

I'm back, bitches.

I'm back and better than ever.  Okay, maybe not quite that good, but definitely feeling good.

Feeling good, and looking good too if I do say so myself.

Had to go to the Ob-Gyn today, so not only did I put on clean undies, but I put on something other than yoga pants, threw some makeup on my face and some curls in my hair.  Brennan, of course, asked where we were going.  Because let's be honest, the only time Mommy puts on real clothes is when we leave the house to go somewhere special.  Oh, my poor children.

Hubby and I are planning a very productive, very fun weekend.  I'm looking forward to being able to enjoy some time with all of the most important boys in my life.  It's supposed to be pretty rainy again tomorrow since Hurricane Sandy has graced us with her presence, but that will cool things down a bit so we're going to get our Punkin' Patch on on Sunday.  Happy Fall y'all!

And then I blinked and my babies tripled in size.

In July I sat down to write a post about the "lovey wars" that take place in our house during our sleep routine.  Three times a day, I would sit in the rocking chair in the nursery with Beckett and Kiernan on my lap and feed them their bottles before putting them to bed.  The peace and stillness of the room at that time was only ever disturbed by the battle of the lovies, arms flying around while little hands grabbed at pieces of fleece and satin.

But just 3 months later, times have changed.  There isn't much snuggling that goes on before nap time anymore. In fact, it's really just a bit less chaotic than the rest of the day.  The 3 of us walk to their room, hand-in-hand.  I sit in the rocking chair and pull Beckett onto my lap as Kiernan goes to pick out a book for us to read.  I read as much of each page as they'll allow, before someone turns the page.  We point to things on the page, name colors and animals, and when we finish a book, Kiernan slides off of my lap to choose another one.  Three times a day, we settle down for sleep by using this routine.  It's certainly not as calm and peaceful as our pre-sleep routine used to be, but it still feels good to have a lap full of my sweet boys.

Running in the rain.

I had another one of "those days" today.  And I have to admit that I didn't fare so well.  When Brian walked in the door at 6:30, I wanted to run for the nearest coffee shop with my laptop and a big huge nonfat pumpkin spice latte.

But I had an hour and a half run that needed to be attended to and Brian looked at me and said "Baby, you have to do this" so I just went.

I wasn't very happy about it.  It was raining, getting dark, and I was just plain not in the mood to run.  But halfway into that first mile, a switch flipped in my brain.  The rain felt good on my skin and smelled amazing.  I love the rain.  It's calming.  Relaxing.  Serene.

Just run.

I have less than a month before my race.  ::cold sweat::

I'm behind on my training.  Not because I can't physically do it, but because some days I have just a big giant mental block when it comes to getting out there and getting it done.  I doubt my ability to run well outside.  I doubt my ability to keep going.  I doubt my ability to run faster.  I doubt my ability to ever become a "runner".

But yesterday I had a moment of clarity.  I was 1.5 miles into a 4 mile run.  Feeling intimidated, frustrated, and uncomfortable.  I stopped to let a little girl pet Cooper and walked for a bit.  Then kept walking.  I knew I should have been running, and I wasn't sure why I wasn't.  I just couldn't bring myself to start up again.  I felt heavy.

Brennan's big adventure.

::peeks sheepishly to the left and right::

Hello?  Anybody still here?

To say life has been busy lately would be an understatement.  It's swirling around me and I'm trying desperately to keep my head above water.  Not in a bad way, just in a "Dear God, this parachute is a knapsack!" kind of way.

But this past weekend was a great break from the chaos.  My parents came into town for a visit.  We spent time in the pool at their hotel, at the beach, relaxing at our house, playing at the park, and going out to eat ... a lot.   More than anything we just spent lots of time enjoying each other's company.  I love to watch my boys interacting with their grandparents.  It's such a special relationship to watch form and grow.

Kiernan, Grammy, Brennan, Grampy, & Beckett

Life with 1 year old twins and an almost-3-year-old ... otherwise known as my attempt at organized chaos and staying sane.

My dear friend Lorryn recently wrote a "Day in the Life" post about the changes to their family routine now that she has started to work full time.  Their little family is thriving after this change and it's delightful to hear the excitement in her voice when she talks about their life.

Her post got me thinking that I haven't done a "Day in the Life" post in a loooooong time.  Last November, I described the complete shit-storm (literally and figuratively) that we called our life when the twins were 9 weeks old.  And in March, I wrote another post about the semi-organized days of life when the twins were 6 months old.  I could have sworn that I wrote another post this summer, but looking back I probably decided not to because it would have looked the exact same as the March post, minus the nursing and pumping.

Now that we have survived the first year of life with multiples, life has become easier and more enjoyable.  It's still not easy, it's just a different kind of chaos.  Somewhat more manageable. So here's what life looks like in our house these days....

Flight of ideas.

I'm spinning.

Not the kind where you sweat a lot.  Well, actually, as a chub-a-lub who drinks way too much coffee, I actually sweat quite a bit during the day, so that's not entirely true.  But not the kind of spinning where you are on a bike and going nowhere and sweating your balls off.

I'm just spinning through life.  August has been the busiest not busy month ever.  I'm just in the middle of a million things and haven't made the time to sit down and write and that's making me crazy.  I have a million things that I want to get out of my brain so I'm making time for it in what may be the most random post I've ever written.  But that's just what it's like inside my head lately so maybe by getting out I'll be able to clear up the mess a bit.  Maybe?