Another Day in Paradise.

It's 6 am. Babies up and by the slaps on my face and the little giggles I can no longer hide under my blankets. It's a game in her little mind and there is no going back to sleep from here. We venture out to the living room together and put on Elmo for the first of 100 times played today. I change her bum and think to myself how did these hand-me-down clothes make it through at least 3 other babies before us and stay stain free? What am I doing wrong? I prepare breakfast.
"Okay Boo, time for breaky" I say and pick her up and place her in her high chair. Breakfast today was pancakes and she didn't seem to like them, either that or feeding the dog was more fun. Add eggs to the list; I make a mental note. I sneak some applesauce in whenever I get a chance in hopes of some nutrition for the youngin'. Clean her up and put her down. I try and butter the cold pancake I had made for myself and realize it's pointless and add syrup. In-between bites, it's up and down, hugs and kisses, twirls, "Where's your ucky button", and what does a puppy say? It won’t be like this forever.
Bath time. Our favorite time. Ruba dub dub, swimming baby. Floors now soaked. Go to cupboard. Oh crap, I was going to fold those towels yesterday. 10 second dash to find a blanket to wrap her in. Slip on the wet floor and do the splits, but keep going focused on my mission, find a blanket before all the water is drained and she is cold. Return with blanket. With water squishing up through my slippers I wrap her up and exit the bathroom. It's bum cream and diapers, lotion and undershirt, followed by the same talk every day on how babies have to get dressed too, just like mommy and daddy or people would judge us... judge me, but it won’t be like this forever. Dressed! Now my turn. Put Boo down in living room where she can see Elmo and play with all her toys and it's a mad dash back to the bedroom to get dressed. Internal dilemma, look cute today or keep it caj. A quick giggle, definitely keep'n it caj. Uh oh, the giggles and the splashes can only mean one thing... toilet! Run to bathroom, "Boo"  as I watch full length of defiant little arms plunge back into the toilet water. Arggg I think, but keep calm and explain why what she just did makes mommy so upset. I put soap on my hands and rub her little hands in mine. Gosh, what is the smell? I take a step as to look on the back side of my child... that is definitely the problem. Like I said, how do they keep them stain free? It's funny because to me a second is time enough to blink or breath, but a second to my daughter is time enough to race to the other side of the world, have tea with the Queen, return home and still have time to spare. I'll be if in the second I stepped to look at her backside she rubbed her eyes. Soapy goodness still in full motion. As I hover her over the facet and splash water onto her face I think to myself what a sight. Looks like I am drowning my one year old. I used my house coat to dampen away the water droplets from her face, mental note, Cortney fold towels. Red eyes and hugs. Baby, Mommy is so sorry!
Half dressed I decide since in the bathroom already may as well conquer the rats nest that lay on the top of my head. Start brushing. Boo wants to help. She grabs the comb and winds my hair into a very unreasonable, unsaveable, knot and pulls. I never thought I would bald before my husband or worse yet my father, but I am well on my way to a shiny head like said father. I yell, "Oweeeee!" She stands up on the counter and leans in with an open mouth. Baby kiss it better, like mommy does when she is hurt. So, it's okay I'll just part my hair on the other side. You know, today is another day like yesterday and the days and weeks before... I think we will just skip makeup today and settle for a light shine gloss. Together we put on our lipstick. Mine manages to stay around my mouth area with my guiding hand helping her, but for the duration of the day she will have spots of shiny gloss reflecting off different parts of her face and head for that matter. It's beautiful really, she is beautiful and it won’t be like this forever.
We are ready. Pack up the diaper bag. Bundle on the clothes for the cold weather, and off to the gym we go. I plan for a thirty minute workout where most of the time I stare at the door waiting for someone from the daycare to come get me because we are poopy again or because we are teething and time away from mommy isn't exactly what she had in mind. The couple weights I do push though are heaven. When my muscle exhaustion takes over my emotional exhaustion I feel relief. Stress free relief. Rejuvenated and no longer on a murder mission we leave the gym.
Next order of business, grocery shopping. I swore before I had kids I would never be this and I would never be that, and reality… I am both. I hit the doors of Wal-Mart and it's like the gun from my younger track and field days. The race is on! I'm like a bullet. Mental list where are you? Why can't I remember what I need? Stop, pause, baby grabs nearest box or hanger from the shelf and pulls flinging it directly into my head. Ouch! OOH, yeah... eggs! Race is back in motion. On a good day we usually manage to reach the finish line with only a few rude stares and an open, not yet purchased, bag of veggie straws. Victory!
Home now, time to unload. That thirty minutes at the gym is about to pay off. Lollipops and ants. Whaaat? Yes, lollipops and ants. My daughter and I were enjoying lollipops in the sunshine this last summer when we got side tracked, heaven forbid, and left our loli's sitting on their wrappers. What we came back to was mountains of ants leaving only a mere glimpse every now and then of what used to be a pink lollipop. I have become that lollipop. Baby, diaper bag, purse, and groceries consume my body from every angle, ants! One very cute ant among them though!  Why do I have a fenced house? It's from the driveway, to the sidewalk, up stairs, through a gate, up some more stairs, and voila front door. Mind swear, keys are in the diaper bag one of the first ants on this lollipop. Inside…finally! Is it nap-time yet? Nope, it's lunch time!  Whippin' up a batch of homemade Mac and Cheese with a one year old is an adventure in itself, but I'll leave it to your imagination. With the kitchen, whom I have nicknamed Sudah after Sudah Bosan, left looking like a bloody battlefield; it is finally naptime. I can’t make out if it's me or angels singing Halleluja, but I have been told that I have a voice of an angel and my daughter really enjoys my tone deaf attempts at lullabies, so... it's debatable. And again I tell myself, it won’t be like this forever.

A silent prayer that this nap is longer than twenties minutes floods the heavens from my mind and I lay her down in her crib.

I pick up the house and clean Sudah. It's the 10 second tidy. Energizer bunny to the max, not because I really have that much energy but because I just need that minute to myself after it's all clean and she's still asleep. 

I sit still on the couch in the quiet of my house and close my eyes and let my mind go. Seconds turn to minutes and then I hear my little monster awake. The snuggles of her warm body next to mine and her sleepy eyes so content make my heart warm. It won’t be like this forever. 

Daddy's home, suppers made, house is somewhat still clean, and we are still alive. Success. Such a busy day with not much to show for it makes 1930 feel like midnight. I'm exhausted. Last on my mommy list, put the baby to bed. We go into the bedroom and I nurse her until she is asleep. I pull away, she wakes up. I try and give her her soother and she cries. Back to square one. This cycle was repeated 3 times each time her cry getting more and more upset. I'd had it. With no milk left and no patients I wondered how long I could lay there and let her cry without doing anything. Would she cave and fall asleep? Did I want her to go to sleep with tear stained cheeks? Why was I rushing her anyways? She wasn't eating she just wanted the comfort of knowing I was there, and I am frustrated with that, with her? With a single tear dropping onto my pillow I pulled her close to me and laid with her, at first for her, then for me. She needed me for a couple more minutes and I ended up needing her for much longer. The words I threw around so violently all day in my frustrations had come back to haunt me... "It won’t be like this forever." As much as she is my hurricane, she is my rainbow. She won’t need me like this for more than a few more months and what will I do then? It hurt me in that spot of my heart that I keep covered with layers and layers, the one spot that is so hard to find and very few can touch it, the complete body consuming part that you learn you have when you become a mother, that's the spot that was hit when I thought I was too tired to hold my baby that night. Who's the monster now? Little girl you teach your mom more than anyone else ever has. For those moments when you have nothing more to give, use whatever you can find in yourself and dig a little bit deeper. I have taken to heart that as much as I think it will never end and the desire to let the exhaustion and frustration consume me, forever is too short. So mental note, you can shove it… I will try and fold towels tomorrow!

Where HE Lives...

It is not even daylight. The alarm goes off, and I nudge my husband to make it shut up before it wakes our sleeping 1 year old. I have been up at least a couple times in the night with her teething self and don't want our day to start just yet. As I roll over and snuggle back under my warm covers, he sits up and throws his legs over the side of our bed. His day has begun. It's 4am. 

His day will be completely different than my own. It will start at the gym where he can relieve his pent up stress and get his mind off his daily tasks. Following his day will be full of professors, lawyers, and student, acquaintances and friends. It will be full of listening to and taking notes on lectures. He will think hard, study, memorize and meet deadlines. He will spend every hour of his day on someone else’s clock doing what is demanded of him and his time. He will give every ounce of himself physically and mentally so he can provide for our family. He will do it today and tomorrow and until forever. 

When he is done with lecture, he will put in hours as a servant to his mind. He will pour what little he has left into those books so he can maintain his scholarships. The free moments of his day will slip away until there are only a few precious ones left.

But he wont use them for himself. He wont meet up with friends or watch a football game. He will come home. He will help with supper and dishes and play with his daughter. He will give unselfishly the last of himself to his wife and his child until the exhaustion of the day takes over and his weary soul passes into another state. Once our daughter, Boo, is settled for the night I selfishly wake him up to take her to her bed. He does this with so much love as he simply kisses her forehead and tucks her into her bed in the other room before returning to his warm spot with few very short hours until hist next alarm.

My husband is a babe. Man-candy!

No, he won’t be on the covers of any magazines issued for this year or next. (I wont speak for when he is a lawyer though, wink wink!) He likely won’t be listed in GQ’s most attractive men for the year competing against Blake Shelton – but, he should be.

6 packs and the “right” amount of facial scruff doesn't define handsome. It is not about his haircut or the expense of his suit. His arm size, waist size or shoe size doesn't add up to handsome in my eyes either. Yes, his eyes, smile, and little booty might have won my curiosity, but they are not what won and own my heart.

Handsome – well, real-life handsome lives at my house.

Real handsome looks like arms that hold a tired wife and happy child.

Real handsome looks like endless sacrifice with no sleep because he wants to provide for us the best life he sees possible.

Real handsome isn’t cocky or arrogant, but quiets fears and scares away monsters with calm confidence.

Real handsome has plenty of time for building castles and brushing princess hair. 

Real handsome plays peek-a-boo and watches Elmo on repeat.

He doesn't have to be asked to help and he doesn't take for granted the tender hearts that he holds in his hands.

Real handsome looks like coming home – dress shoes by the front door, a back pack on the couch, and a suit-less body now wearing gym shorts and a tee.

When Hollywood or the next best author try to tell me that handsome has something to do with how controlling or persuasive a man can be… Christian Grey's and Gabriel Emerson's you are socially presented as examples of attractive men…To me, I won’t forget real handsome.

I will remember 4:00 am and the alarm going off. I will remember this important truth that real-life handsome is measured by wiped tears, calmed fears, sacrificed years and bear hugs. 

It is crowned by dedication. It is adorned with dignity. It is humble. It is trustworthy. It is our safe place. He is our King.

Handsome is found in this man who hold his family.

Like I said, REAL handsome lives at my house… 

To my handsome husband, thank you for being you… Every. Single. Day.

Happy Birthday! 

My Handsome....Pls enjoy two months of fighting paid for and no complaining to go with it! 
Boo and I sure love and appreciate you! 
Happy Birthday to you, babe! xox