Yeah, that's a bulldog on my thighs

20 pounds. . .good Lord.

That's how much weight that's stuck around post-Matilda. That's like lugging around an adult French Bulldog. Considering that it's been six weeks since she was born. . .I suppose it's a safe assumption the dog is staying.

So I tried working out today. It's true that it's the dreary, yucky, slushy, salty end of winter around here and that getting outside isn't always an option. I opted to dust off my old Wii Fit and give it a go. Sad, sad, sight.

I used to be the gal that went to Pilates class four times a week. In fact, I was there so much, when the instructor got tired, she'd direct the class to watch my form during the exercises so she could take a break. True story.

I used to go to the gym and run every morning. I even had a couple "gym boyfriends". . . you know. . .the boys that are there at the same time you are. . .and try to keep up with your pace on the treadmill? They are the ones that are totally looking at your screen to see if you're running faster than them. . .but think you can't tell that they're scoping out your machine. Yeah. . .I had a few of those.

And now. . .my Wii Fit age is 41. Good grief. It was tough enough just keeping up with the little Wii people hula-hooping. I'll admit. . .hula-hooping made me out of breath a little. And I'm pretty sure I pulled something.

Ahhh. . .so here we go. I'll be googling "losing baby weight" for the rest of the afternoon. Making dieted dinner menus for the rest of week. . .taking the stairs. . .doing tricep curls in the kitchen with cans of soup. . .and staying away from Chinese take out. Goodbye dear Chinese take out. You will be sorely missed, but not forgotten.

And I decide to share this with you so that yet again, it's in writing and I must stick to it. French Bulldog. . .off to the pound! No pun.

And for some family news. . .

We met Curious George at our local mall this week. I have no idea what Cole was saying to him, but it was serious. And it involved a couple of "ahhh -ohh's". . .which is usually what he says when he's spilled something. I'm sure George was confused.

. . .and a picture of Tilly. . .because I'm trying to remember to take some pictures of the 2nd born, too. . .

. . .and a shout out to my buddy Taryn. . .who had her second beautiful baby girl this week. . .a big welcome to sweet Marleaux Rose! Ya done good, kid.

bad attitude, be gone.

I have a bad attitude. I do. It's true. My husband even told me so.

Here's my justification. . .

I'm tired. My eyes hurt. My hair hasn't been washed and styled in days. I eat cold dinners at the table by myself most evenings. I can't hear well out of my left ear because that's the ear Tilly usually is crying into. I wake up with headaches. I'm still hormonal. I don't fit into any pair of pants in this house. There is spit up on most of my shirts and I leak through at least 2 of them a day. I travel in circles all day cleaning up messes - but can't seem to get anything clean. It's a major accomplishment to have everyone fed and in bed before 8 p.m. . . I feel like Supermom when they are actually bathed, too. I'm jealous of my husband for leaving the house; even though it's only ever for work. There are stretches that I don't leave the house at all.

That's all I'm willing to admit at the moment. It's enough. And it's all completely normal for a mom of a newborn and a toddler, I know. I could write a similar paragraph for Bill, too. We're in the same boat. The only thing I do that he doesn't is feed the baby. It's not a "poor me" mantra. But it's given me a bad attitude.

Yesterday he said to me. . .in that way that he's able to give me a zinger without me realizing until he's left the room. . ."you know, Erika. . .cranky moms usually mean cranky kids." Okay Bill. . .point taken. I'm sure cranky moms mean cranky husbands, too. . .but he didn't have to say that part.

Logically, I know why this is happening. It happened with Cole, too. Our schedule has changed. Our lives have changed. There's no routine yet and we're all in this limbo waiting for life to settle down. It's unnerving. It's easy to get negative. It's easy to miss the "old days."

But there's so much that's amazing around here right now, too.

A few nights ago, while Bill was working, I went to my folks house because I couldn't take both kids for an entire evening by myself. I knew it'd end up being a night of sticking Cole in front of the TV and staring at the clock counting down to bedtime. And that was if everything went well and I didn't get frustrated with him for stuffing his dinner in the couch or taking his diaper off and running around the house. So we left. Which was scary because I hadn't taken a trip like that with both kids alone. . .and especially not at night. But it was necessary.

My folks really gave me the break I needed. Besides. . .Cole is so much better behaved with others. . . so my plan worked. And on the way home, in the dark, in the car, on some lonely road out in Ashby or Townsend or something. . . I looked in my rear view mirror at the two of them. . .peacefully sleeping in the backseat. And it really hit me. . .

. . .they are the most amazing thing I'll ever do with my life. Ever. And I'm so lucky.

And for the rest of the ride home I took a personal inventory of my attitude. Of the tit-for-tat scoreboard I've been keeping in my head of things Bill gets to do that feel human. . .and things that I don't. Of how many dishes he's done and how many diapers I've changed. And it didn't matter. In fact, it was really foolish. It's all a flash in the pan compared to the importance of being their mom.

I thought about how cute Cole is when he brings me a "dish" he's made for me in his kitchen. Or the way he says "uh oh" when he's spilled something horribly messy. Or Tilly when she smiles and I can tell she sees me. I thought about how calm I get when I'm folding a load of their laundry. . .stacking little socks and shirts neatly into piles and thinking about how big they've gotten. And trying to make dinner with Cole wrapped around my leg, kissing my knee.

I'm cleaning up my act. No one wants to be around someone with an attitude like that. And Cole and Till don't have a choice. I'm so fortunate to have the family I do and in just a short time all of this will be forgotten. And with it, I don't want moments like I had driving home that night gone too.

So, he's right. Again. And I've put it in writing. The grass is always greener, they say. But I suppose the real secret is to recognize just how green yours is, too. And now. . .for some pictures.

Part of the "plop Cole in front of the TV" week. . .he's literally inches from the screen watching his Curious George Movie. . .

And playing dress up with Till:

It's a cute hat. . but she sure doesn't like it!

Happy 2nd Birthday, Cole!

Cole's 2nd birthday has come and gone. I can't believe he's 2 already! It's really been the quickest, and strangely. . .longest. . .2 years of my life.

We had quiet and small birthday celebrations this year. I don't think anyone (Cole included) was up for any big plans. We're still in the throws of those first few weeks with a newborn and there are circles under all of our eyes. It was really nice to have a cake and presents with just the three (oops, I mean. . .four) of us.

Thursday night we got together with the Goguens, who gave Cole way too much awesome stuff. And today the Paradis clan came over with way too much awesome stuff. He's surrounded by fantastic (and far too generous) gifts.

Bill and I got him the Encore Elmo doll for his birthday. I swore I'd never purchase one of these obnoxious toys. Then, one day at Target. . .while in the middle of a temper tantrum because I wouldn't get him any new toys. . .it happened. . .

I asked Cole if he'd like to say hello to Elmo and brought him over to the display. Once I saw the awe and excitement on his little face, I was hooked. Elmo came to stay shortly thereafter. . . once I found a coupon and a sale at Toys R Us, of course. ;-) And he's been living in our basement for about 3 months. . .just waiting for the big day.

And big it was. . .check out his face:

And yeah. . .next year I'll be better about remembering to get birthday wrapping paper and not cheap out and use the leftover Christmas paper. . .

Here are some more pictures of his Elmo. Please take note of the incredible mess of toys he's made a permanent fixture of our home and that precious little cowlick he woke up with. . .

Besides giving Elmo kisses, Cole also feeds him his peas. . .when I'm not looking. Smart kid.

I think Cole has come to terms with the fact that Tilly's staying. This week we've seen his attitude improve and the time outs (which were up to almost 10 a day!) have subsided. He's still very gentle and good with her, so we're very fortunate. Now. . . if she would lighten up on us a bit we'd be in good shape.

Each night around 9pm she decides to cry until midnight. I can't figure it out. . . it's almost to the minute each night. No combination of rocking, pacing, swaying, eating, burping, or changing makes her happy. And every night it's something different that soothes her. Fortunately, Cole sleeps right through it. And, until I hear otherwise. . .I'll assume the neighbors are, too!