MESS- A Photo Documentary on Living with Boys

Last Monday, as I walked from room to room while the kids napped trying to figure out what to tackle, I realized I needed about 2 weeks in a kid-free zone to get my home organized. It seemed particularly bad. I'll be honest, most days I don't even make my bed unless I am having someone over and there is potential that we could wind up upstairs in P's room (where they could catch a glimpse of our bedroom). Way too often dishes pile up my sink.


So I thought I would share with you all what my home can look like on any given day.

Please don't judge me.

I picked up NOTHING for these photos-just grabbed my camera and away we went. I would like to preface these photos with the statement that my house does look put together some days. Just not this day.

I like to call this picture "Patrick was here".

The basket to the far left on the kitchen counter is supposed to hold all my papers and junk so it isn't all over my counter top. Ha! I need a moving truck up there.

This is what I like to call "Baby Book and Scrap Book Project Purgatory". Formerly my dining room table.Ah ha! One room I can be proud of-we try to keep the living room primarily a toy free zone. I like to call this one "Rainforest" after an area quickly disappearing in our home due to (toy) encroachment.

Charlie the Tank Engine above the toilet for potty training motivation. Wet, poop stained onesie that had been soaking in the sink laying on the counter. Note the expression on soap dispenser Sponge Bob's face-is it just me or does this mess scare the jeepers out of him too?

Eek, our bedroom. The mess on the floor in the far background is our attempt to get all of our files into the new file cabinet that is doubling as our nightstand. Still a work in progress.

So yes, my life could use a little scrubbing and a lot of organizing. That's why I like hosting things at my house-it forces me to clean, usually in a binge-like fashion. Throwing a little "Meet and Greet" next Monday for the new family in our neighborhood, so you bet your petunias I will be posting some photos soon of my house looking awesome!

Ten Thousand Posts...

Lately, I have had ten thousand blog post idea running through my head-there is the one to document my new goal to learn to use my new SLR off of the automatic setting, or the one about why I really want to learn to knit (sounds riveting, eh?). But frankly, I have been too tired and t0o preoccupied to post much. I am doing a little bit of everything but as a result, nothing is getting fully done-except when it comes to my kids. We have been having fun hanging out together.

Just the other day, P helped me with our family portrait by gluing on the googly eyes and coloring our clothes. This was the finished project: However, the first draft (see top photo) needed some revisions-ummm, Patrick, what happened to mommy and daddy's eyes?? Patrick studied it for a while and looked quite perplexed, then asked me for some more googly eyes. Problem solved.

Give the kid a glue stick and he can googly eye anything. It may replace bedazzling.

A Healthy Imagination

Patrick has always loved playing pretend-we imagine that we do a lot of things, like having his own "beeper" that is an old cell phone and going on fire calls like his dad. Recently though, Patrick has been the one to come up with the make believe idea, instead of just playing along. I am thrilled to see his imagination grow and really take off.

This apparent mess, created by my own P, turned out to be...

The "garbage" he collected around his room for garbage day. The bed-his garbage truck.
He would have filled the bed with the entire contents of his room had I not stopped him.

Here he is, driving the garbage to the dump:

While this phase is warmly welcomed, another less welcome one has settled in: when Tommy cries, Patrick cries. When Patrick cries, Tommy cries. Not all the time, but when Patrick is tired and whiny, any small sound of distress from Tommy sets him off. I had to laugh the other day when Patrick in his booster seat and Tommy in the high chair both just sat and cried while looking at each other. I wanted to grab my camera, but that seemed, well, insensitive.

Irish, American and French

Tom and I have certainly had our fill of the cultures lately-this past Tuesday we headed off to hear the Pittsburgh Symphony perform various pieces of their upcoming season. We haven't been to the symphony together since we were dating in D.C. and both of us agreed that it was extremely relaxing. Our favorite piece: Gershwin's an American in Paris http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U1_TSydZ1LQ&feature=fvsr
I am not sure if I ever heard this before, but I am a big fan now!

Then Saturday afternoon we were lucky enough to score tickets to the Pitt v. Notre Dame game. Although we didn't get to squeeze in any tailgating, we had an awesome time lounging in the top row (I mean literally, we were in the top, top row-no one behind us) in the perfect 70 degree weather Pittsburgh decided to dish up. It felt like the good ole' days when we were carefree at Notre Dame but I felt a little guilty leaving the kids all day. Paying for it now though-I have had a cold since Wednesday and after being out and about all day Saturday, I took a turn for the worse last night. I spent most of today napping when I could squeeze it in while Tom entertained the kids and cleaned up around the house. I love that guy.

As you can see from our shirts, we decided to support Notre Dame this game although we are also Pitt fans. Great game down to the last few minutes, but Notre Dame was able to stay ahead-Go Irish!

"This is DELICIOUS, Mom!"

That is Patrick's comment at nearly every meal-he might not eat a lot, but I guess he thinks I am a good cook!

Tommy meanwhile has been eating, and eating and eating. He now gets two meals a day and remains a happy, textbook kiddo (at least for now). Newest favorite-the frozen banana in his mesh eater which entertains him while I am trying to get dinner going. I finally broke down and ordered a jumper for the doorway since T is so much more active than his brother was. It should be here Monday.

What One Oreo Can Buy:

Two minutes of Patrick asking for the cookie while I snap away. One day I will get both of them smiling at the same time.

Faith and Fear

I did it again.
Just now, while hunting for details about a posted craft idea, I was diverted from one familiar blog to another, unfamiliar blog. I found the post I was looking for, but then something else caught my eye- a heartfelt sentiment along the side of the blog. I scrolled through some more posts and was was captivated by the blogger's storytelling. It was so honest and pleading. I just spent an hour and a half reading her blog and my heart broke for her. I cried. And cried.

Her faith is inspiring. Would I be able to praise God in such dark moments? I hope so, I think so, but I pray that I don't ever have to find out.

Motherhood is truly a gift. It gives us our highest of highs, but in the back of your mind you know through just the fear of losing one of your children that it is also capable of producing the lowest of lows. It is always in the back of my mind. There is so much that can go wrong, even when I am doing my best to safeguard my little ones. Maybe I have too much anxiety about it, but life is full of reminders and frankly, my past work experience doesn't help. And the haunting stories-stories of friends of friends and fellow bloggers.

I bought Patrick a helmet for his tricycle-it is in our basement and I didn't tell Tom because I thought he would think it is unnecessary and think I was being overprotective. I am being overprotective. But what if he fell off and hit his head in just wrong spot? My brother's neighbor was fooling around on his kid's skateboard and fell off, hitting his head on the pavement. He died as a result. That was only like 6 feet. Friend of a friend.

I worked for four years at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children www.missingkids.com, a great organization with even greater employees. But guess who is never allowed out of the stroller at the mall unless he is holding my hand? I am so afraid I will lose him. How could I ever explain to Tom that while finding the perfect pair of jeans I lost our son? Morgan Nick was 6 when she was abducted from a softball field in a small Midwest town. She was playing with her friends just 50 feet from where her mother was watching the game. I heard Morgan's mother tell the story while I worked at NCMEC and it is forever stuck in my head. How all of Morgan's friends came back to the bleachers after the game, but not Morgan. My worst fear.

Then I became a special agent and really saw first hand the evil that exists in this world to harm children. Unthinkable acts. And if you knew the frequency with which these people exist, you would probably be paranoid like me. I did some online undercover work posing as a minor and I liked to describe it as going fishing at a fish farm. Every time I logged on to the computer I had a new case. Sometimes my creepy meter goes off, just in passing someone. I can't explain it.

Please be patient with me kids when I have trouble letting go of my fears and act a little crazy.

I am not meaning to scare anyone. Just voicing my anxieties and hoping that they don't cause me to smother my kids as they grow. I know I need to put more faith in God and let go of some of these thoughts. I am not perfect.