A 20 minute blog post

20 minutes. 

Right now that's about all I get.

No, not sleep, I'm actually sleeping pretty well these days. 

Time to myself. 

In one day. 

Uninterrupted. 

Yep about 20 minutes. (on average) 

You see, I still have not mastered the art of getting my children to sleep at the same time.  It's humorous actually.  If I lay Jude down, Brooks immediately wants to eat.  If Brooks is snoozing away, Jude will automatically know it's time to wake up.  And Isaak, well he's running around here like a crazy man all day every day.  He wouldn't nap if I paid him.  And it's all ok, but there is this short, very short little window when I can sit, hear silence if I want to, take a bath if I want to, or watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother.  It's usually around 9:30pm. It's happening right now actually.  So I decided to blog.  

Adventures in my world as a momma of three.

1.  You see more when you look more.  I know, I'm a genius.  It sounds like an obvious statement, but it's taken me three kids to get it.  See, when I had Isaak, he was my first, and with your first there's this problem you have where you love them at each stage, but you're so excited to see what's next that you try to rush them to it.  It's not until they are two and talking back at you that you wish wish wish you could go back and freeze frame those fleeting baby moments. ::Insert intense need to have another::

Then there was Jude, my absolute miracle baby, the baby that I swore I'd film his every move so I'd never forget.  Hahaha, but then he was born, scaring the crap out of me from his first 34 week breath.  His teeny 4 pound self had to learn to breathe, eat, stay warm, stay awake, gain weight, not throw up etc.  

And I had to battle fear and nauseating anxiety every day to ensure that he would live to the next day.  That fear coupled with exhaustion that I'll probably never know again clouded my eyes to see the sheer joy of what was in my home.  With each day that passed, I was just happy that he was ok, and I forgot to soak it in.  And, well, not to mention that we found out we were pregnant when he was 6 months old.  Pile exhaustion on top of exhaustion, and put a nauseous cherry on top and you have what I would like to describe as the entire second half of Jude's first year. :(  Now I look at this almost 18 month old and wonder AGAIN, what in the heck happened?!?!?!

But, third time's a charm right?  Sometimes. 

In this case, yes.  Enter baby number three... Brooks Arrow Cutler. 

An absolute dream of a boy, wrapped up in the sweetest chub, with his daddy's eyes, my nose, and hints of his big brother Isaak with each passing day.  His arrival was joyous, his temperament is to be bottled and sold, and well - I am finally stopping to soak it all in.   I hold him so much more because I know this will be over in an instant.  I wear him constantly because I can.  I just look at him, and keep looking and he makes me laugh and smile because really, how do these children really manage to be the best of both of us?  God is so good. 

I love his almond eyes, how they are perfectly shaped and still blue.  I love his eyelashes which did not come from me because they are long and full and naturally curled.  He knows when I'm looking at him because he has this perfect half smile, almost bashful.  I love his round chin and all of the extra chins he has.  I love his chubbiness and that he's filling out 3-6 month clothes.  

 He still has cradle cap but his hair covers it well, and I think he may have a touch of eczema, but that's okay too, that's what mommas and prayers are for.  He has sweaty hands and sweaty feet and always has milk in his neck creases.  Jude thinks his head is a ball, Isaak loves to lay almost on top of him, and he just doesn't even know what's ahead having two older brothers.  But for now, he's my 11 week old chunk who has grown so fast already, but I have to write this all out so I don't forget.  I forget so much.  He snores, he still sleeps next to me and has made me break all my parenting rules.  But by number three I've decided to make my own rules.  And as I said before, I WILL LOOK FOR MORE, so I can see more.  I have to.

Practice makes nothing perfect, but it makes me more confident.  Just a short month ago I would melt down at the sheer thought of leaving the house with all three boys by myself.  The bravest I'd gotten was a drive thru, and we didn't even get out of the car.  But a lot has changed in the last month. 

I started practicing. 

My favorite place to practice? Target!!

 

Anytime Amick has to be somewhere else, I use it as an opportunity.  I plan it as best I can.  We go after Jude's nap, I feed Brooks before we leave, and I load the diaper bag with snacks and drinks and 2 sizes of diapers and my nursing cover, and my wrap, and a ball, and more snacks, and Isaak's dollar for popcorn, and my phone complete with white noise app, and wallet and keys, and even when I think I have it all I still forget something...

I load Jude up first, because he has to be contained at all times or he's gone.  Followed by Brooks who may or may not cry the entire way there.  Thank God Isaak is 5 and can buckle himself in and make Jude laugh and start his DVD player, because that's how we avoid meltdowns in the car, oh judge judge away. 

Fast forward to the Target parking lot.  I break out my beast of a double stroller and thank you God for that thing or I'd never go anywhere.  But we head inside, and most times we can make it around the outer perimeter of the store without huge issues, but someone eventually fusses.  

Insert popcorn and juice box.  

Isaak is happy.  

Insert yogurt melts.  

Jude is now happy.  

Insert baby K'tan wrap or white noise or both.  

Brooks is happy.  

Then we leisurely stroll the store again and I pretend that - while only for a minute - that I do have it all together.  

"See look at me, I'm strolling around and all three of my kids are quiet."  

...Oops minute's over.  

But you know what keeps me going?  I get these comments...  From people.  And it makes me smile usually.  I get comments from people about how they love my stroller, they don't know how I do it, they are proud of me for getting out because if it was them they'd never do it, and it looks like I've got it down, and how all those boys have me outnumbered, or where'd the blondie come from, and do I have twins, and almost always without fail I get the infamous: "LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE YOUR HANDS FULL" comment.  

Yes, world, my hands are indeed full. 

And instead of a typical eye roll and shoulder shrug of agreement - I'm learning to take that as a compliment - because as my arms get stronger from loading and unloading that blasted heavy stroller, and my back aches from wearing a baby all the time, and as I am almost always sweating, and always wiping something, and what is make-up, and glory to God we checked out without a meltdown, and I like the Target with the starbucks, and yes my toddler ate an entire bag of yogurt melts in one sitting, and I lost my five year old once, and he spilled an entire bag of popcorn, and I bought work out shorts (hahahahhahaha), and at one point they were all three crying at the same time... You know what?!?!

I'm doing it,

practicing it,

failing it,

nailing it,

but doing it. 

Each day that passes, with or without a Target trip I'm getting more confident. BAM.

And there you go, my twenty minutes are up, because a certain little chub needs one more feeding before turning in for the night.

Goodnight blog, I miss you so.

Be blessed.