Dawson and Owen had spent five days at my parents’ house over Christmas break. They finally came home today and Doug and I were very happy to see them. We loved having the time away to get things done around the house, and my mom and dad love spending time with their grandsons, but it was awfully quiet while they were gone.

Owen was mad that Poppa and Nonna didn’t stay for awhile after they brought him and Dawson home, but I managed to distract him with a game of Angry Birds on my new Kindle Fire. Big mistake on my part because Dawson (who loves everything that resembles a video game) managed to take over the Kindle and has kicked my butt with the high score. It’s amazing how technologically advanced my kids are.

I gave the boys a bath and they got dressed to go to the New Year’s at Noon celebration at the Central Wisconsin Children’s Museum in downtown Stevens Point.  I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it was their first visit since they moved to their new location.  I was amazed at how awesome the museum is now.  Owen was fascinated with all the exhibits, but the Grocery Store was his favorite.  Dawson loved the News Anchor station the best.

We had a very good time. They did a New Year countdown at Noon that was quite noisy. Owen freaked out when all the kids began honking their noise makers so we moved off to the side to calm him down. Dawson and I loved the champagne, which was really ginger ale. We had a toast and then the boys continued to play for a bit.

The CWCM is having their 1st Anniversary in their new building and we might go back to celebrate at their party on January 7th. Plover and Stevens Point locals are encouraged to attend. It will be great fun and admission is just $1 per person.

Later tonight we’re heading to the YMCA to celebrate the new year with some fun, games and swimming. The boys are super excited. We can’t wait! Happy New Year, everyone!

Tonight I took both kids to the YMCA to swim in the Adventure Pool. After an hour of splashy fun I said it was time to go. Neither child wanted to get out of the water. I endured several minutes of crying and gave in to another 15 minutes. They finally agreed to get out because they were hungry.

When we got home Dawson and Owen ate as thought they’d been starving and they both fell asleep by 8:30. I managed to get all of my homework done online and now I’m wide awake. Swimming may just become our Friday night ritual.

Our summer is definitely beginning on the right foot. What have you all been up to?

Here’s some recent photo goodness:

They are growing right before my eyes and every day is special.  It’s so difficult to watch them grow up and become their own personalities.  As much as I love them and understand that this is part of life, in these moments I truly understand what it must have been like for my own mother to “let go” of her four children.

Dawson will be 7 years old in just a few months.  SEVEN.  It seems like yesterday that I was holding him in my arms and rocking him to sleep.  His life is no longer an off-shoot of mine.  He has his own life, separate from me.  He has experiences at school that I know nothing about.  When he gets home he tells me about his friends, what he’s learned, the emotions he feels when things happen during his day.  He is making his own memories and some day this little boy will be a man.  How do I get over the immensity of this fact of life that is staring me in the face every day?  Oh how I wish I cold slow down time.

Owen is almost two years old and I’m now realizing that everything I’ve experienced with Dawson is coming down the pipe with my youngest child.  My baby wants to be like his big brother so much, and it seems like he’s growing up twice as fast as Dawson is.  I don’t know how this is possible.  Owen is so full of energy and is always smiling.  When I look at his face I see how much he loves life.  I see how much he loves Dawson.  He is ready to conquer the world.

I can help but shed some tears.  I’m sad these little birds have to leave the nest some day, but I’m so lucky to be their mother and to watch them take flight right before my eyes.

Sure there are favorite toys like Legos and the little Star Wars action figures Dawson loves to play with, and Owen is mesmerized by the Mega Blocks, but still there are McDonald’s Happy Meal toys that are crammed in every corner, played with for 5 minutes and tossed aside.

We don’t go to the Arches that often, but we’ve acquired enough of those plastic pieces of junk and I’m sick of looking at them.  I threw them all in an empty box and didn’t stop there.  Things my kids haven’t touched in months also went into that box and I’m determined to take it to Goodwill.  I think I’m going to have Dawson come along so that he can be the one to make the donation.

I just don’t understand how my kids got so spoiled.  I don’t buy them toys unless it’s for a birthday or Christmas present.  In years past I’ve gone a bit overboard, but I quickly learned my lesson when I was the one picking up the damn things.

Tonight I found toys I haven’t seen before and when I asked Dawson where they came from he replied, “Grandma bought me those when we went to Goodwill.”

I flipped my lid.

“Does anyone NOT see the irony of this situation?  We should be DONATING toys to Goodwill, NOT buying more crap to fill this house!”

My husband just chuckled.  He quickly shut up when I gave him the death stare.

I’m just at a loss.  I hate giving away toys they love, but they can’t LOVE them all can they?  I am tired of tripping over Tonka trucks and Matchbox cars.  And those damn Little People! I truly believe they procreate at night.

And the Legos! Oh dear, God, the Legos.  If I were to count how many tiny-choking-hazards-waiting-to-happen-pieces I find on the floor each day, I could retire tomorrow.  It’s insane.

Is it cruel to just pack stuff up and drag to the curb?   What do you do about the toy situation in your house?

When I arrived to pick him up, Dawson looked sad and worried.  I asked if he was feeling okay and he simply shook his head.  We walked from the nurse’s office to his classroom so that he could get his coat and backpack.  His teacher stopped to talk to me in the hallway.

Mrs. T made mention that Dawson was feeling some anxiety about riding the bus home from school.  I knew exactly what she was talking about.  A few weeks ago, Dawson told me some of the older kids (fourth and fifth graders) on the bus were poking him in the back of the head and calling him names.  Being a Love & Logic parent, I told Dawson how sad I was to hear this and asked him what he thought he could do about it.

After talking it over, he decided he would tell the bus driver if things got out of hand, and he would try to sit in the front of the bus whenever possible.  Dawson is the last one on the bus in the morning, so all the seats at the front are usually taken and he makes his way to the back where the naughty kids wreck havoc.

I discussed the situation with his teacher and she explained that Dawson becomes nervous just before the end of the day.  She thinks he may be worrying about the bus ride and it’s making him feel sick.  It broke my heart to hear these words.  The thought of my son enduring such torment is frustrating and infuriating.  I honestly had no idea it was causing him such anxiety.

Dawson is a polite child and he’s painfully shy.  He doesn’t cause trouble.  He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t talk back.  He will sit quietly and ignore anyone who intends to bring him harm.  This child has more patience than any adult I know.  I try to teach him to stand up for himself, to use descriptive words to tell the bullies that he doesn’t like what they are doing.  I’ve told him to politely ask them to stop.  Dawson tells me he did tell them to quit bothering him but it sounds like the bad behavior is persisting.

After school I called the school bus garage and left a message for the bus driver.  When she returned the call she told me that Dawson is one of the best kids on the bus.  He never yells or causes a distraction.  He always says hello and goodbye to her when getting on and off the bus.  She also told me she has been keeping an eye on the situation to the best of her ability, but that driving children safely to their destination is her first priority so she can’t always see everything that goes on.  I told her I understood; I know the drill.  My mother has been a school bus driver for 23 years.

The plan is to save a seat in the front of the bus for Dawson so that he doesn’t have to deal with the rotten kids in the back.  I’m so mad at those kids.  Shame on them for picking on someone littler than they are.  I am so upset that they cause my son so much anxiety.  It brings back memories of the same crap happening to me when I was in elementary school. I never fought back, I was too scared.  I often cried all the way home.

I sure hope this arrangement doesn’t single Dawson out and cause more teasing, but I don’t know what else to do.

When I’m Queen of My Own Life, I will rule that I be given two straight hours each day to read.  Considering I have a stack of books on my end table that I’d love to read, and magazines piling up in every corner of every room, I’ll probably need a full work day each week to catch up.  My husband will just have to deal with the diaper changing, the picking up of the toys, the constant yelling and craziness.

I just got the new issue of New York Magazine and haven’t had the chance to read about The Social Network, which is on the cover.  I’m not sure I want to watch this movie.  Anyone see it yet?  I love me some Facebook (hello, I’m on it every damn day), but do I really care about Mark Zuckerberg or whatever his name is?

It’s weird that Hollywood is making movies about social media.  I can’t wait for them to make a movie about Twitter.

Okay.  These kids of mine are whining.  The only think I’m queen of is chaos.  So much for blogging.

When Dawson was born I was a nervous new mom.  I never felt confident that I was “doing things right.”  I questioned every decision I made and worried about ridiculous things.  The funny thing is that everyone told me to just relax and trust my instincts, and this advice infuriated me, because I truly didn’t know if I had maternal instincts.

Sure, I have younger siblings and I spent many of my teen years babysitting, but it’s completely different when you have your own kids.  A baby’s needs and his survival are completely dependent upon you, at least until they learn how to walk, feed themselves, and wipe their own butts.

As soon as Dawson learned to roll over and eventually crawl, I became obsessed with childproofing and making sure nothing harmful would come in contact with him.  I sanitized toys.  If he dropped a spoon or fork I’d immediately wash it off or get him a new one.  I went through baby wipes faster than anyone I know.

It’s different with Owen.  I’m not saying I’m an expert, but I feel more confident in my parenting this time around.  I know it’s okay for him to fuss for a few minutes while I use the restroom (he LOVES to be held).  If his favorite toy falls on the living room floor I hand it back to him (unless it’s truly dirty of course).

My mom came over yesterday and commented on how good-natured Owen is.  She was amazed at how calm and happy he is.  ”He’s such a good baby,” she said.  ”He doesn’t cry about anything.”

I wanted to tell her to come over just before bedtime when he’s super fussy as he tries to fall asleep.  But I realized she’s right.  He is a much calmer baby.  I don’t want to compare my children because I know they are two amazing individuals.  I do want to point out that Dawson was a little more high strung and I think it’s because he could sense my anxiety.  Maybe Owen is content because I’m more relaxed and confident.

It seems as though firstborn children are the guinea pigs.  It’s almost unfair, yet truly, we learn to become parents with them.  They train us. Dawson made me a mother.  The lessons he has taught me have made me the caring and attentive parent that I am today.  Sometimes I feel like I’ve made mistakes with him that I won’t make with Owen.  My experiences with Dawson are like a check list.  Okay, I did this and that happened, and I won’t be handling things like that again.  I often wonder if Owen has an advantage in being second-born.  I have a better grasp on childrearing this go-round, and he reaps the benefits.

I know that’s crazy, because all that matters is I have two wonderful boys, each with their own awesome personalities.  Dawson is well-rounded and kind.  He has a fantastic sense of humor.  His smile lights up a room.  Owen is my little ham.  He giggles at his big brother’s antics.  He is fascinated with Murphy, our dog, and watches him with such intense concentration.

Yes, there truly are differences in raising one child versus two children, but one thing is the same:  both my babies love to cuddle with their mama.  Maybe I’m doing this parenting thing right after all.

It didn’t exactly start out on the right foot, however.  We forgot about daylight savings time and woke up at 9:00 a.m. thinking we had over an hour to make it to church on time.  It wasn’t until I checked e-mails and noticed my laptop clock had the new time adjusted.  I ran to the shower and started hollering at Doug to get his butt up and ready.  I knew I’d need helping getting Owen and Dawson ready, too.

We made it to Mass at 10:30 on the dot and resigned to sitting at the very back.  Not a single pew was available so we sat in the gathering space (a fancy term for foyer, I imagine) and could barely hear Father speaking.  All the more reason to be quiet and listen intently.  I managed to catch most of the homily.

Post worship we took both cars to the gas station for refueling because we had a grocery store perk card that would give us 80 cents off per gallon.  I love saving money!  Two vehicles full of gas for under $40 is amazing.

Back home I fed Owen and then Dawson found a Star Wars marathon on Spike TV.  He was dead to the world, glued to the TV.  I had to drag him outside to ride his bike while I pushed Owen in the jogging stroller.  We walked to the park and took the hiking path down to the Little Plover River.  Owen loved being outside and fell asleep half way to the playground.

Once we returned home I played soccer in the backyard with Dawson.  He loves to dribble the ball and shoot it into the net I got him for his birthday last September.  He’s getting really good with his soccer skills.  He starts spring soccer at the YMCA next month.  I’m so glad it will be warmer this time around.  Fall soccer was so cold last season.

Here are some fave photos from today:

It was a beautiful Sunday!  I love Spring!

Every day is difficult.  He does not want to listen to anything I have to say.  Asking him to pick up his toys when he’s finished playing with them causes him to emit a scream that sounds like someone is dying.  I’m certain the whole block can hear this wrenching noise.  One day, very soon, cops will be called to the scene of whatever murder the neighborhood thinks is taking place.

This morning he refused to put on his shoes.  I told him repeatedly that time’s a waistin’ and that the bus would be pulling into the driveway at any moment.  My son told me, “THE BUS IS NOT HERE YET! I DON’T NEED TO PUT MY SHOES ON!”

When I saw the bus coming down the street and no shoes on the boy’s feet I yelled, “THE BUS IS HERE! WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?”

And my child started to freak out, running around, looking for his shoes.  I had to help him put them on because at that moment he was so frantic he didn’t know where his feet were.

I told him to run quickly to the bus and when I saw him walking solemnly, slowly, I felt a pang of frustration in my chest.  The child will give me a heart attack one day.  I just know it.

Things have been less than great here for a few months.  Right after Owen was born, Dawson seemed to adjust well to having a baby brother.  He loves Owen so much and he can’t stop hugging and kissing him.  But I notice that when I’m nursing the baby or changing his diaper, Dawson begins to act up.  I’m well aware this is a play for my attention and I try to respond lovingly, but I can only handle so much insanity before I crack.

I want to give my boys equal attention, but I have an infant who depends solely on me, and a 5-year-old who just wants me to acknowledge what he’s saying and doing, and I don’t know how to balance it all.

It doesn’t help matters that Doug is working many hours to keep our financial boat afloat.  With me not working money has become very tight.  We are now uber frugal and I carry most of the stress of balancing the budget and making sure our needs our met.  It’s difficult to be alone with two cranky kids for many long hours with no break.

(On the job front:  I’ve sent a few resumes out and made several follow-up calls only to find out these companies are still involved in the hiring process.  I’m praying for an interview.  I’m lucky to have had this time home with Owen, but I don’t believe I was meant to be a SAHM forever.  It’s time to go back to work, not only for financial sake but for my sanity’s sake as well. I love my children so much and I’m happy to be with them for now.  And perhaps winter is making us all crazy.)

I think Dawson needs more time to play with friends, too.  He’s cooped up with me and Owen and has so much energy (he’s resorted to burning it by chasing the dog, which drives me nuts).  Thankfully, soccer clinic starts tomorrow.  He’ll see his old pals and have some fun.  Let’s just hope I don’t have to beg him to put on his shoes!

Since my younger sister and brother still live at home with my parents, they often answer the telephone.  One of them looked at the Caller ID, saw my phone number and gave the phone to Dawson who was staying with my parents for the weekend.

The phone rang once and I heard my sister say, “Dawson, it’s for you.”  She passed the cordless to him.

“Hello?”  Dawson said.

“Hi Dawson, it’s Mom.  Can I talk to Grandma, please?” I asked.

My little boy, funny child that he is, yelled at his aunt, “It’s not for me! It’s for Grandma, you twit!”

I laughed and laughed until my mother got on the phone, and she was laughing, too.  The two of us were in tears over the situation.

“Where did he learn the word ‘twit’?” I asked.

“Probably from Auntie Rachel!” Mom howled.

My mother then told me that she was talking to my brother earlier in the day, and Frankie was giving her a hard time about his curfew.  She told him if he didn’t like the rules he was more than welcome to move out and pay rent.

“I told Frankie he had no room to talk when he’s living here rent-free, and Dawson said, ‘Grandma, he has a room!’” she said, laughing.

After the laughter subsided, I asked my mom what to do about the fever and she suggested infant Tylenol and a cold washcloth on his forehead to keep him from overheating.  I had already given him a dose of the infant medicine but had not considered the washcloth.  She told me to try that and to call the weekend care phone number at the clinic.

The nurse suggested the same things my mother had, and it’s nice to know that I can still rely on my mom, even when I’m in panic mode.  It’s been a long time since Dawson has had a fever, so I’m not surprised I had forgotten all the remedies.

Thankfully, Owen’s fever dropped down to 100.5 two hours later and he was feeling much better.  Good thing Dawson had his comedy down, I needed the laughter through the tears!