Snow day

My body began to tire, as we trudged up our backyard hill for what felt like the 100th time today. My feet were cold, my pants snowy, and my hands were going numb. The cold snowflakes cascaded down upon our heads as I continued to carry both sleds up our steep hill. Both my son and daughter were ignoring the cold, as all children do, but as I age, the cold penetrates my body deeper than all the years prior.

The trees around us are blanketed thick with heavy snow, the air cuts against my cheeks as the wind blows around, and the sky is darkened by the storm upon us.

My admiring thought is interrupted by the sounds of plastic grazing the icy grounds beneath my feet. My two children come barreling down my backyard hill before me, waiting to be stopped by my skillful hands. My daughter bails off her sled before she's able to reach me and skids across the snow past my knelt down body, then, my son lands right into my hands. They both drop back into the snow and laugh, as they soak up the joys of childhood. Before jumping back up, and asking to do it again.

We continued this process for another hour or so; me walking the sleds up the hill, then running back down the hill and waiting for them at the bottom. My daughter taking her time to help her little brother onto the sled and adjusting him accordingly. She stands behind him as she gently nudges him over the lip, before he soars down the hill. He tilts himself backwards and tightly grips the sides of sled as he yells, "weeeeee." She then takes a running start and dives onto the sled, resting her knees onto the plastic, and zig zags behind him, quickly catching up. He squeals with laughter as he peeks behind, then pushes his knuckles deeper into the snow to gain speed. They're both eventually caught and safely secure by their momma, who adores the sounds of their laughter and continues to exert all my stored energy, just to hear those sounds a few dozen more times.   

As I wait back at the bottom, watching them fumble with their sleds at the top, I'm nostalgic for a moment... Remembering how different things were, only a year ago. That this time last year, my son hated the snow. He literally cried if he had to stand in it, or near it. Then, my daughter and I were always left waiting for his nap time, in order to go sledding in the snow. But, only using the small hump that dropped onto our patio, by our backdoor, so we weren't far away. Then, on the days that my husband was home, I was forced to not only walk the steep hill, but to slide down it on the sled with my daughter. Because last year, she wouldn't ride the sled down the hill by herself. 

Once again, my thought is interrupted by my two children fearlessly racing each other down the hill, conversing the whole way down, before being stopped again by my hands. Then, my daughter and son, who are all snow covered, jump into my arms, causing me to fall back onto the cold snow. They lie next to me and on me, laughing until their faces match their red colored cheeks. I join in with laughter too, not because laying in cold snow is hilarious, but because being with my two children brings me more joy than anything else... And even cold, wet snow can't ruin that.

The little red swing that started it all

I could remember installing this red swing in the doorway beam of my kitchen, when my daughter was about 14 months old. I would cook dinner, clean the kitchen, and we would blast Joan Jett and sing out loud, very loudly, while I pushed her back and forth. She would chime in with banging wooden spoons on the sides of the swing and I would whirl around pretending to play the air guitar. 

She would giggle at my silliness and I of course, would act even sillier. If I close my eyes, I could still see her short little hair cascading over her squinted eyes as I pushed her higher and higher. Her hair blowing back just enough to see the laughter and happiness in her eyes.

But today, those once little legs now almost graze the ground beneath her and she swings all by herself, while we talk about school and other fascinating life moments. I'll get a giggle out of her when I attempt to enter the pantry next to the swing, I'll swoop and dodge her feet like I'm playing a game of dodge ball.

Then, out of nowhere, she willingly climbs out of the swing to push her brother, higher and higher, just to get more laughter out of him. 

They play for a good half hour or so, her pushing him, then dodging underneath the swing and hiding. The laugh and talk, just the two of them. And I'm like the fly on the wall, going about my kitchen business. I'm no longer the center focus of the swing fun. I'm more like the chaperone, watching for safety reasons. 

However, I'll turn on some Joan Jett, for old times sake, and they'll wildly dance around to the music. But then, my daughter counters with her YouTube songs, which of course, she wins. Surprising me in the process, that she's old enough to have her own opinions on music.

My daughter asked me if we would still bring the swing in every winter when she's 10 years old... Of course we will, however by then, I'm thinking we'll have to attach a bigger swing and retire the red baby swing. And I will hope that at 10 years old, she'll still want to sit on a swing in my kitchen doorway and talk to me, or push her little 8 year old brother back and forth as we reminisce about a 14 month old little girl who started it all...

Because this doorway swing excursion must continue well past it's allotted time frame...

Mid Week Humor: Woken up before the roosters

I wasn't even aware that my clock said 5:40 am. Turns out, not only does it say that time, but it's completely dark outside and everything is silent. Somehow this morning, my children have competitively beaten the birds and roosters to morning. Great job on your win, kids, but if possible, that's not a competition I would like repeated again. Thanks, love mom... Motherhood.

Mid Week Revelation: Adult sleigh riding

Yesterday taught me that sleigh riding as an adult is much different than it once was as a child. I don't remember the air leaving my lungs with such force as I repeatedly trudge up the hill, I don't remember my muscles and bones creaking as I cascade down the hill and bounce over every divot, and I don't remember the urge to lay on my back in the snow to cool my body temperature down... All this, after only 10 minutes... Motherhood, where your once athleticism deteriorates by the minute.

My little boy, the 3 year old

Three years ago, I hesitantly sauntered down the empty halls towards labor and delivery for my induction. I was 11 days early, my belly huge and my son palpable from the outside. I was extremely uncomfortable and barely walking due to the deterioration of my SI joints from my preexisting arthritis. Thankfully, I was already 6 cm dilated and 90 % effaced, so at least my body was in active agreement that it was time for my son to vacate my body.

My first delivery was a wonderful experience. I was in labor a total of an hour and had my daughter completely natural, without pitocin or pain medication. Luckily, there wasn't much pain. So, even with my impeding induction and all the horror stories I have heard, I knew I would still have another natural birth, minus the need for pitocin. 

After another quick labor, but horrific pain and my head spinning around 360 degrees at one point and my doctor walking out of the room because I refused to push, I gave birth to a large healthy baby boy.

My daughter was colic from the moment she was born. She cried as soon as she was delivered and continued well past 6 months old. She was my first, so I was awkward and helpless. However, when my son was born and placed ever so gently into my arms, he was calm. His serene eyes glanced up at me and he nuzzled his soft cheek into my bare chest. He fit perfectly against my body. He was my son, the remaining missing piece to our little family.

Today, my beautiful son turns 3 years old. With the memory of him being placed in my arms so vivid, it's hard to imagine that my last child is no longer a baby. When I close my eyes, I could still smell the new baby scent that radiated from his dark haired covered head. I could remember how wonderfully he slept from day one and his abnormally large appetite that helped his already big frame grow even larger.  

My little boy, such a sweet, soft soul, he contains. 

He's nothing like his older sister, at all. He's completely passive, nurturing, and loves to play by himself. He's easily content and low maintenance. He's nothing of what you would describe a stereotypical boy. He's sensitive and sometimes, overly sensitive. He loves cuddles and hugs and being with his momma.

But, like his sister, he loves to talk, a lot. He has to know what everything is and why it is what it is. He asks well over the allotted toddler questions, usually rapid fire, and under a minute. He's also goofy, silly, and loves to dress up in superhero costumes. 

One thing that's more than prevalent, is his love for his sister. The sun rises and sets with her. She's his rock, foundation, and his confidant. They spend countless hours being together; riding big wheels, playing hide and go seek, going on pretend adventures, and sitting side by side playing their kindles and learning together. He not only knows all his shapes and colors, but he also knows the alphabet and how to count to 15.

Years from now, the image of seeing my son snuggled up next to his sister, with his head rested on her shoulder, while she reads to him, will be forever etched into my memory...

These are my children... Forever...

When I begun this parenting journey 5 years ago, I didn't know what to expect. My daughter was first and immediately stole my heart. I never expected motherhood would change me the way it had, and for that, I'm grateful for my children. After time, I found out that I make a much better mother, than I did as just a woman. I'm more comfortable and confident in my motherhood role. So, by the time my son was born, I passed all the new mom nervous jitters. I was ready and willing for my love to succumb to this beautiful new human. But this time, he didn't change my life, he added to it. 

With having two children, a girl and boy, I'm able to experience the differences within them. I'm lucky to have two with such different personalities. Of course, some days, it's a constant push pull of parenting to figure out how to make everyone happy, but on a normal day, it allows me to parent individually and focus on their own needs.

Having my son born into our lives was our final gift. He was the other half of his sister, the final piece needed to close the circle. Now, the four of us are able to relish in our everyday love and continue to enjoy all the milestones that exist as the world turns.

Happy Birthday baby boy! 

Clinging to the holidays

My tree is still standing tall in my undecorated sitting room. It stays, completely dressed with all its memories from Christmas pasts and current year. The colored lights still glisten in the dark room and I still find myself standing, staring at the beauty the tree radiates, and saddened by how quickly the holiday season has passed. The clutter of the surrounding garland has been neatly packed away and my village was dissembled by using my ninja skills to remove the 6ft platform that lied underneath. My daughter requested that we keep the tree up until her August birthday. I instantly vetoed that idea, due to obvious reasons. Then she negotiated keeping it until my February birthday... With all the remaining decoration clutter seized and my lack of initiation with committing to the conclusion of the holiday season, it very well may stay until my birthday... So, congrats sweet daughter of mine, you got your wish.

Mid Week Revelation: Resolutions

Everyone is making their New Year resolutions about going to the gym more and getting fit, while I'm over here just hoping to reach a point where I no longer get winded walking up my stairs to put laundry away... Motherhood.

New Years conclusion

My little family and I, all huddled around our living room coffee table as we played a competitive game of Candy Land. New Years Rockin Eve was playing loudly in the background and occasionally, my daughter would stand mid game and dance to one of the songs that was playing on TV. We laughed and cheered her on, like she was in a dance battle competition. My son consistently wanted his game piece to remain on the color green, because that's his favorite color, and my daughter would enter into a full fledged explanation on why that wasn't possible. I was playing the game in my fake, overdrawn, strong Italian accent and using the phrase, "forget about it" too many times. My husband brought up the point that somehow my daughter always ends up getting either the popsicle or the cinnamon roll (We're starting to think she has multiples stashed somewhere). Here it is, in black and white, my little family. In one little nutshell, all our personalities.

My children gathered their noisemakers and silly hats and prepared themselves for the upcoming countdown. They danced around and sang, all with complete and utter excitement on their faces. My daughter grabbed her brother's hand and twirled him and he would stop and fall into her, so she would hug him tightly. I happily stared at them, wanting to freeze time and realized that this motherhood gig is passing by at an alarming rate.

Each year that passes, brings new change. And of course change is good for some things, but so far, the majority of change that I have witnessed has been pulling at my heartstrings. That night, on New Years Eve, I saw a newly 5 year old and an almost 3 year old that are so much more maturer than this time last year. I saw two children who love each other beyond recognition, instead of seeing that once little girl who wanted her new little brother to leave. I saw a little boy who recently was non verbal and now is speaking just as much as his momma and sister (and asking the typical 500 questions a minute, toddler thing). Also, a big girl who is now a kindergartner and no longer a toddler. And, a little boy who now sits at the same desk his sister once did, when we do his homeschooling assignments. Including, two wonderfully polite children who are grateful for anything and everything and are becoming more self sufficient by the minute.

I could remember being in the trenches with a newly turned 2 year old and a newborn baby. Completely frantic and overwhelmed by the constant neediness and wondering if there would ever be a minute in which I could stop running from one task to the next. So here we are, a few years later, and sometimes my heart aches from the lack of neediness that they now display. I am such an enabler of a parent and have a constant need and want to baby my children, to do everything for them. I am a complete hands on parent and my children have become an extension of me. But, I have a daughter who also wants to do the same. She wants to learn how to be a "grown up" and do everything she can for herself (except when she's on the couch and wants mommy to get her cup which is on the floor in front of her). I then have a son who wants to be just like his sister and follows her lead and guidance with everything she does. So he's aging much quicker than I can handle. 

Once upon a time, my children flocked to me for fun, adventure, and play. Now, I find myself standing in the background as I'm listening to them playing and creating memories. I eventually cut in and try my best to include myself and thankfully, they're still at the age where they still accept mommy. But, I am realizing that at this rate, the need for mommy will decrease as the years pass. Then the image of Beverly Goldberg (from the TV show, The Goldbergs) arises in my head and I'm reminded that I do not want to be THAT parent. Although, it seems I'm already headed that way.

So, with 2015 closed out, I relish in the many memories it contains. I hold them close to my heart and save them for that rainy day. All the laughs, the hugs, the kisses, the milestones, the adventures, and the love. Admiring all the great things we have accomplished in one short year. All the vacations to Disney, the beach, our local amusement park (twice), camping, and countless day trips. I realize that this was the first year that all those trips were completely flawless. There were little to no "toddler meltdowns" and they both reminded me of little people, instead of babies. 

I sometimes laugh at myself for being so stressed out and overwhelmed during those earlier years, but I guess that's easier to say now that everyone is sleeping a full 10-12 hours a night. I also find myself being incredibly thankful for my role as a sahm and having the opportunity to savor all these wonderful moments. 

My children will obviously continue to age, as it's life's divine plan. But I have realized that every moment is the greatest moment. That no moment is too small or no moment is too large. Every moment and time spent with my children is a moment I want locked away in my mind, forever. And I know that 2016 will have even better moments for us to marvel in. 

...And I cannot wait.

Happy New Year to you and your family!  

**To read the 2015 stories, Click Here. -Once clicked, you'll be on my main page during January 2015. To continue through the months, just click the next page button at the bottom.

** Don't forget that you could still vote for my blog. Once you're on my main page, click the Top Mommy Blogs icon in the right side column and it'll redirect you to their page. That is all you need to do. Once clicked, it'll register your vote. Thanks all! :) 

As always, thank you for reading and following along with my stories. Please feel free to join my site on google and like any of my other social media pages -These all can be found on the right side column of my main page at www.jackyhappydays.blogspot.com