Hard.

Sometimes parenting is just plain hard.  And a lot of times I find it's hard at times when you least expect it to be hard.  One PERFECT example: weddings.

I have a cousin, Rebekah, who's children have been a part of approximately 55 weddings.  I've been present for quite a few of them.  Each time, her family shows up on time, with smiles, and they're all dressed with most hairs in place.  They make it seem so effortless that I never even thought twice about what a miracle it was for them to all be there and still appear sane, much less put together.  The only time I remember thinking how organized she must be was when she was pregnant with her third (and I was newly pregnant with Henry), and she was able to keep her two older girls pretty quiet for her brother's wedding.  She kept handing them dum-dum lollipops, and I remember thinking, "Hmmm..... I wouldn't even think to hand a 2-year-old a lollipop.  Cool." Ah. If only I knew then what I know now.  I probably would've made a mental note to enjoy that wedding even more, and would've made sure to tell her what an amazing woman she was right then and there while she was in the midst of a miracle (which I didn't even know to appreciate at the time!).

We were so happy to be a part of Paul's brother's wedding this weekend.  It was both boys' first wedding, and the entire concept baffled Henry.  We kept explaining that Uncle Grant and Aunt Kelly were getting married and that there would be a big party afterwards.  He was totally sold on the idea when we told him there would be cake, but he was completely confused that it wasn't someone's birthday.  Apparently, it's mind-blowing to a child that there can be more than one excuse to throw a party and have cake. :)

But then came the hard part.  Surviving the ordeal without: (1) meltdowns, (2) destruction, or (3) throwup.  The task was seeming impossible about 4 hours before the wedding because my oldest would NOT fall asleep in the hotel room, and my youngest would NOT stop crying.  Henry finally got a few hours sleep after a lot of wallowing around on his bed.  And Grandma finally saved the day when she started offering Walter food and he then proceeded to consume about 500 calories.  Whoops. I swear I fed him lunch - thank GOODNESS for grandparents!!!!!!

Task #2. Getting them and us dressed.  Walter fought us hard on that front. I mean, he's literally attempting to escape.

 He screamed every time we tried to get him dressed, but we finally wrestled him into his clothes.  Why, oh why, did I pick an outfit with so many buttons?!?!?!  

Henry found a package of graham crackers and decided to go to town. You know you've reached your official "I-don't-give-a-crap" point when you stop caring about what your kids are eating and are instead, thankful they've stopped pestering you and getting into trouble.

Once we were dressed, it was time to arrive at the chapel for pre-wedding photographs. I cannot believe we survived that two-hour time period.

I think we only survived because we allowed a lot of running.  And yes, go ahead a judge. We allowed our children to run up the church...

 back down the church...

 and around the church.

We even managed to find stairs and let Henry go up into the balcony.  This turned out to be a bigger problem than we expected.  After Henry (the ringbearer) made it down the aisle during the wedding and stood with Paul, he decided to loudly announce over the preacher (who was in the midst of asking who presented Kelly for marriage to Grant), "MAMA!!! LET'S GO BACK UP THERE!!!!"  Please note he was quickly grabbed and taken from the chapel so the wedding could proceed without 2-year-old interruption!

It's a good thing he was so stinking cute.  And yes, in case you were wondering, he does have his hand shoved in a box of conversation hearts.  But remember, I lost my give-a-crap hours before this photo was taken.

The biggest wedding miracle of all: I actually got a photo with one of my kids!!

And Walter is taking a few steps now, but is still not fully walking.  After holding the child for approximately eight hours straight yesterday, Paul and I (especially our backs) are READY for this chunker to walk.  In fact, I believe we're desperate for him to walk.  We spent a lot of time this afternoon working with him on his walking. I don't think we ever did that with Henry - we figured he would walk when he's ready.  We're essentially begging Walter to get on with it!

And have I mentioned Henry's a total ham?  I was so worried he wouldn't actually go down the aisle with the pillow, so I had all kinds of talks with him.  Make sure to carry the pillow and don't throw it down.  Make sure you actually walk to Dadda.  Don't be shy.  Don't trip. Blah, blah, blah.  The key instruction I forgot: Don't talk.  This child talks from the second he wakes up to the second he goes to bed, but I figured he would get shy and overwhelmed by all the people looking at him when it was his turn to walk down with the flower girl.  It never crossed my mind he'd want to chit-chat with his father from 50 yards away. After I nudged him down the aisle, he spotted Paul, proceeded to jog with the pillow, all while yelling "DADDA! DADDA! DADDA! DADDA!"   Paul quieted him for all of 1.5 minutes, until he decided to chit-chat with me from 50 yards away (which is why he got drug from the church). Cutie.

By the time we got the reception, we were exhausted but excited the kids still seemed sane and happy.  Henry LOVED all the clapping and the dance floor! Part of me wishes I had more pictures of him dancing, but I was having too much fun watching him to worry about snapping photos.

Love my handsome boys!

 

 And look at this great photo of Paul with his boys and parents.  Oh wait, I beheaded Walter.

 Redo.  Great. Now he's not looking.  Go figure.

But most importantly, happy wedding Grant and Kelly!!  You both looked so happy, and we were so thrilled to be a part of the start of your lives together.  While I'm sure Paul and I could cook up plenty of marriage advice, we'll start with this: wait to have kids until you're ready.  They're the best, but boy are they exhausting!!! 

 

Pride Comes Before the Fall. Literally.

As many of you probably know, I tore my ACL while skiing in February.

 

What most of you likely don't know is that this happened approximately 5 weeks after I declared 2014 as "The Year of the Suz."

Similar to "The Summer of George," but more awesome.

This was going to be the year.

Weight Loss: The year I got the last 20 pounds off from my first child.  I mean, I have a closet of what I consider to be seriously cute clothes.  None of which I can squeeze a calf into, much less my thunder thighs OR my rear end.

 

(I seriously need access to these suits.  Like, for my job and stuff.)

Organization: The year that I got organized.  I even bought myself the organization tool: The Emily Ley Simplified  Life Binder. Or at least that's what I was convinced of after spending hours researching how to get organized.

It's cute. It's organized.  There are tabs. There are To Do lists.  There is even an entire section for meal planners, which I used the entire month of January.  And it worked - we tried new recipes and ate at home.  Bonus: Better for the budget than eating out a few times a week!  Also better for the aforementioned thunder thighs and rear-end.

Fitness: The year that I would get back in shape.  That's right. Like Fergie, I'm "workin' on my fitness."  I secretly wanted to be in good enough shape to sign up for something really fun, like the Princess Mini-Marathon, the Nike Women's Marathon, etc.  Something girly and athletic.  Because if you're going to get in shape and run, you might as well wear a pink tutu while doing it, right?!?  I joined the gym in my office building, which was shockingly cheap ($83/3 months), very nice, and empty. I used it 3 times per week.  Up until I was assaulted by a pile of snow...

Decorating: The year I got a lot of projects done at my house.  My laundry room is planned, it only needs to come to fruition.  This will require lots of wrestling with Ikea boxes and cursing at the two-fingered Ikea man. 

 [If you don't understand the Ikea reference, then I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for you for not having an Ikea nearby or to be jealous...]

I also had plans to fix the horrid, decorative drywall in my master bathroom.  

 I'm sure this would look great in plenty of people's homes.  But this is not my style. Fixing this would be followed by floating the drywall, painting, picking out curtains, etc.  Next, paint the master bedroom. And paint about 5 more rooms/pieces of furniture. All of this requires lots of standing, squatting, climbing on ladders, etc.  Ya know, things where the knee is essential.

Like I said, this was going to be THE YEAR OF THE SUZ!!!

And it's all gone to crap.

My goals now look something more like this:

Weight Loss: My diet plan got a mini-jumpstart after not eating for about 36 hours before/after surgery.  Turns out pain meds also take away your appetite, so last week I didn't eat all that much.  This was counteracted, however, by the fact that all I did for a week was sit on a chair and hobble to and from the bathroom. I don't believe many calories are burned by sitting in a chair in a slack-jawed, stone-faced drugged stupor.  Additionally, any weight loss has been gained back in other areas: contraptions (cruches/knee brace), swelling, and Stryker screws.  And now that I can't exercise, I have to eat less. Ugh. The 500-lb fat woman inside of me just starting shedding real tears.

Organization: This has turned into cancelling a lot of things on my calendar.  Followed by adding a ridiculous amount of physical therapy appointments.  And lately, my meal planning has involved responding to text messages from some of the best friends in the world who show up with fabulous food for my family.  No, seriously, we have the best friends in the entire world.  We've actually had to turn people away from bringing us food.  Thanks to all that have taken time out of their days to do this - you're appreciated more than you know!

Fitness: I will actually be getting into shape.  And by getting into shape, that means going to rehab 2-3 times per week and doing leg lifts, leg bends, heel slides, etc.  Not exactly what I had in mind. I suppose my Princess mini will be delayed a year or two...

Decorating: Since all of my projects require dexterity of some kind, I suppose some of the projects will be delayed or outsourced.  I think I just heard Paul say "YES!" from the next room.  WAIT! I can still do some things - I can still curse at the Ikea man.  I mean, seriously, why does he only have two fingers? Was it really too hard for the Swedes to add another 3 fingers to each hand?!?  And why are the Ikea directions SO terrible.  After living with a toddler, I'm fairly certain they hired a 3 year old to draw and write the instructions.

Overall, this year is going to be one giant revision of the original plan.  With lots of asterisks, scribbled notes in the margin, footnotes, and strike-throughs.  But I suppose that's life.

So to counteract all my complaining, I'll at least share a few photos of the cutest little "Irishmen" I know.  Okay, so they're probably not all that Irish. More Scottish, but it's close enough geographically, right?!?

 If you can't tell, Walter wasn't done with his bottle yet.

 No, seriously, give him his bottle before he loses it.

Whew. Daddy finally did some bizarre dance that distracted him for 0.5 seconds for a quick pic.  Just in time for Henry to lose interest and get distracted by the dog.  I don't think I'll ever get another decent picture of them again.  Oh well. Time to go hobble into bed.  At least I'm no longer required to shower with a trash bag covering my left leg. Take that JT - and you thought you brought sexy back.

One.

My baby is one today.

 

And he is so full of life. And smiles. And grunts.

He lights up anytime I catch his eyes, unless he believes I may be rounding a corner, at which point he starts to sob hysterically.  He's 100% devoted to his mother. And you won't hear one complaint out of me. Unless it's a Saturday or Sunday and he's been on my hip for most of the day.  Because he's a complete tank (seriously, those cankles....), my arms and back can only take so much.  Therefore, I tend to pass him off to someone else as the day proceeds.   And as his feisty little temper allows.

  

 

 

 He's very, very different from Henry.  Henry wouldn't have left one morsel of the cake.  In fact, I'm confident he would've licked the cake plate. 

 Walter was more excited to play with the balloons.

 

And attempt to chase his father to see where he was going while leaving the cake behind.  

 

He's so curious, and wants to know what everyone's doing all the time.  Especially Henry.  He's typically right under Henry's feet, and Henry puts up with it most of the time.  The laughter in our household has increased significantly over the past two months, and I hope it never stops.  Yes, we still have our share of temper tantrums and crying (we have two children under 2.5 years - would you seriously believe me if I denied it?!?), but it's so worth it.  Toddlers and babies are hard, but so worth it.  Especially when they love their Daddy this much.

 And their Daddy loves them enough to bathe them after their smash cake photos. :)  I don't deserve that man.

 One year ago tonight, Walter left for the nursery, and proceeded to spent an agonizing 14 hours in the NICU when they became concerned about his breathing.  In retrospect, I know how lucky I am.  But I worried and fretted more in those few hours than I have the remainder of this year.  But those hours were a wonderful reminder throughout the year of the blessing that is this sweet baby.  It reminded me to actually lay hands on my children and thank God for them late at night when they're sleeping peacefully.  I'd do it during the day more, but it's hard to catch them sometimes. I'm so very thankful, and so very blessed. What a fabulous year.

 Happy birthday, Walter. Little light of my life.