First Child:  Wears three, yes three, different yet equally adorable outfits on her first Christmas.
Second Child: Wears the same outfit for three different functions leading up to and including Christmas day.

First Child: Momma drops her baby weight like a hot potato because every time the baby whimpers, she drops the cold cereal she was going to eat and instead tends to the baby’s slightest need. 
Second Child: Momma doesn’t even notice that the baby fusses while she enjoys the dishes she was smart enough to prep before the child was born.  In fact 10 months later, Momma still needs to lose ten pounds and baby has learned to steal his sister’s poptarts.

First Child: Receives eleventy billion cards and visitors drop in all the time to take turns holding the freshly baked baby. 
Second Child: People send a card, leave food on the doorstep and take off running; afraid that instead of getting to snuggle a newborn, they’ll have to entertain a toddler. 

First Child:  Brand new toys. Brand new clothes. Brand new furniture and blankets and bibs.
Second Child: Hand. Me. Downs. 

First Child:  Baby is put to bed sleepy but awake because Momma is afraid that said baby will still need to be rocked to sleep when she is seven. 
Second Child:  Momma now realizes how fast the baby will grow and not need her, so she snuggles him a little longer, strokes the soft curve of his baby cheek and, only reluctantly, lays the sleeping boy in his crib. 

First Child:  Hesitant steps lead to shaky steps lead to first steps.
Second Child:  Stands up and walks before anyone is ready for it.

First Child: Textbooks and baby books everything is anticipated and recorded. 
Second Child:  Who has time for books? 

Can you think of any others? Leave them in the comments!

GIVEAWAY CLOSED: Winner #28: KIMBERLY!!

Today we are talking about vacuums.  And kids.  And how they come with crumbs.  A lots of crumbs.

And I?  Well, I am not a big fan of crumbs.  Or cleaning. A few weeks ago I told Craig I thought we should get a dog so that I could stop sweeping my floors three times a day.  He said that was a poor reason to have a pup. Party. Pooper.

But then Oreck emailed me about doing a giveaway and I signed right up because A) I’m not turning that down and B) we didn’t actually have a good vacuum.  (True Story: Our old vacuum did such a poor job that when our cleaning lady came, Craig had to go next door to borrow his mother’s vacuum.)

A week or so later, the Oreck Magnesium vacuum showed up at our door.

Craig was home before me, so he got it out of the box and tested it out before I even got off work.  When I walked in the door, he greeted me with, “the sweeper came!  It’s SO LIGHT.”

Light is right! It weighs less than Chessa did the day she was born. I can carry it from room to room and up and down steps easily. When sweeping, it feels like it’s pushing itself across the floor.

Although it’s pretty basic, with no fancy attachments, it does everything I need it too. The upright part extends back far enough to be basically flat and fit underneath most of my furniture. It gets right up to the edge of the baseboards. It works on my tile, laminate hardwood and puts those beautiful, just-swept carpet lines in my living room.  It has a high speed and a low speed (that doesn’t freak out the baby.)  And, I may have even run it across my couch and loveseat.  (I told you, kids are messy.  And so are husbands!)

Cole approves when the vacuum is not actually running. Otherwise, he’s not a fan.

I don’t usually get excited over cleaning equipment, but this really is an awesome vacuum.  And, thanks to the wonderful folks at Oreck, you can have one too!  That’s right! They didn’t just give me one, they are giving a reader his or her very own!

To enter, simply visit Oreck’ s website and leave a comment telling us one thing you learned about the Magnesium vacuum. 

If you want to increase your odds, you can do any of the following and leave me a comment, letting me know that you did.

• Follow @oreck on Twitter.
• Like Oreck on Facebook.
• Sign up for Oreck’s email list by clicking on “Sign up for Email” in the top navigation bar and entering your email address.
• Tweet about the giveaway… Want to win an @oreck vacuum from @notmommyofyear?  Visit www.notmommyoftheyear.com.

The contest is only open to folks living in the continental US – sorry Canada, Hawaii, Alaska and everyone else. It will close on Saturday at midnight. Winner will be announced on Monday morning!

Disclosure: I was provided the Magnesium vacuum from Oreck.  Also, Oreck Corporation provided the prize for the sweepstakes but is not the sponsor of the sweepstakes.”

“But I CAN’T take a bath because I have to go downstairs!” she insisted with tears streaming down her face and a voice at a level that was dangerously close to waking up her I just got him to sleep little brother.

I handed her the doll she got for Christmas, the one made for the bathtub, and tried to use the plastic baby as collateral.

Angrily, she threw the baby on the floor and continued to cry and bargain.

“I have to come upstairs for a bath so I can’t take a bath because I. HAVE. TO. GO. DOWNSTAIRS.”

Weighing my options, I gave in. “You have ten minutes to go downstairs and play.  Only ten minutes.”

And just like that she stopped the tears, jumped up off her knees, raised her arm into a “V” and yelled, “TEN MINUTES?!  FOR ME?  I HAVE TEN MINUTES?” 

So that’s where we’re at. She’s using her ten minute delay of game to ask Craig for a snack. A wise move on her part since her snacks never last less than twenty minutes and I’m using her ten minutes to tap out a quick blog post. 

It was hard finding my words over the last few weeks.

Writing is such a part of my routine, mixed in with parenting and work and schedules and dinner and laundry and meal planning and grocery lists. And when I stopped all of the schedule and routine it was hard to find time to write. Or even know what to say.

So instead I spent the last two weeks mostly soaking up my family.  Watching Chessa run full speed into Christmas. Probably not knowing exactly what all the excitement was about, but knowing that there was for damn sure something to be excited about.  She spent Christmas Eve peeking out the windows and yelling for Santa and couldn’t understand where he was Christmas morning.  I guess we forgot to tell her that he dropped the presents off and then went to the next little girl’s house. I think she was expecting to see him eating cookies and drinking coffee, with his red sweater unbuttoned and his feet propped up on the coffee table. 

Cole loved the wrapping paper, the boxes, the extra attention and having his momma home all day long for 12 days.

Minus the attempt at potty training (more on that later), it was an ordinary Christmas vacation with sleepy mornings, lazy afternoons, lots of chocolate and cinnamon rolls, way to much Dora and parents who attempted to lose the batteries from a couple of annoying toys.  

And it was perfect.

I’ve never been a big New Year’s Eve party kind of girl. 

Unless you count that one December 31st when I was in high school and a good friend from down the street came over while my parents went out to a party.  We lived it up with movies, pizza, snacks and Dick Clark counting down the hours and minutes of 1996 (or 97). And then we dusted off (no really, I mean dusted off) the bottle of Peach Schnapps that my parents kept on top of the kitchen cabinets and mixed it with Mountain Dew.  When I opened the bottle the cap cracked and I left finger prints on the bottle.  To cover my tracks I used pressed powder to “cover” the dust. 

Ahhh… I can’t wait until my kids are teenagers. I’ll know exactly when they go dipping into my Schnapps. 

Oh, and sorry, Mom. 

So. Anyway. Most of our New Year’s Eve’s have been spent with Craig watching College Bowl games and me falling asleep on the couch at 10:00.  Once in a while I wake up for a midnight kiss and glass of champagne, toasting to the New Year and saying goodbye to the old one.  This year, I expect will be much the same.  Only this year, I’m looking forward to changing the calendar a little  more than usual.  

2011 flipped everything I believe upside down and inside out. It brought me my son and strengthened my family and for that I am forever blessed. But in so many other ways, this year has kicked my ass.  And I’m looking forward to kissing it goodbye and starting over with a fresh breath and a new year on the date line of my checks. 

Here’s to cozy nights in front of the fireplace with the people who love you most. Here’s to new choices and exciting opportunities. Here’s to belief that things really will work out because otherwise the world really would just slip off its axis. 

Here’s to celebrations.  Especially to the little ones celebrated with grape juice and in pajamas.  

Here’s to you.  And that 2012 will be everything you hoped.

Christmas has always been a magical but crazed time. Before there were babies in my life there was juggling multiple dinners and making sure every last aunt and uncle were hugged and kissed. There was shopping for the perfect present for Craig and getting frustrated because he’s so damn hard to buy for.

This year, finances are tight (aren’t everyones?), jobs have been flipped upside down, loved ones are missed or not feeling well, and it’s less than four days to the big day and I have not a single present wrapped. It would be easy to get caught up in the chaos and cluster (ahem) of it all and drive myself and everyone around me crazy.

Except for one three-foot toddler. 

She asks to go see Santa Claus. She rides the train at the mall. She has reindeer food to put out for Rudolph and company. 

She looks at the tree with a magical sparkle in her eye. She kisses Baby Jesus laying in the nativity.

She sings Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells and Santa Claus is Coming to Town. And she gets most of the words right.

She wakes up every morning, excited to go look for her Elf.

So world, if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed or just over all the Christmas stuff this year, I suggest you go find a two year old to borrow for a day or two.

Tonight there was:

Hamburger Helper and microwaved broccoli that I called dinner.

Phones within reach, in case of an important phone call, text or email.

Toys snatched from each other, negotiations made and tears.

Countless retrievals from the steps of a baby who is way to eager to be moving.

No less than two episodes of Dora and one of Sid the Science Kid.

Discussions about bank accounts, holiday plans, chips in the paint and building a storage unit.

Brother pushed and sister’s hair pulled. And more tears.    

But. Tonight there was:

Laughter from a giggling toddler who yells, “tickle me!” while she runs away.

Chubby hands wrapped around a bottle and soft eyes that are shadowed by long eyelashes.

Soft smiles over small children and easy touches on the nape of a neck when we passed each other in the kitchen.

Two extra lullabies for the baby I couldn’t bear to say goodnight to. 

Sneaking back into the big one’s room for the missed hugs and kisses after the little one went to bed.

Prayers said, blessings counted and tears that brimmed knowing that in the face of it all, that when it really comes down to it, we have each other and we have those two healthy, happy babies. And that whatever may come, we’re in it together. 

My lips are dry and sore. I bite them because I’m nervous and on edge and just a wee bit stressed out lately and that makes them dry and then I bite them because they are dry. 

“Quit biting your lip,” I can hear my father saying as he’d tap my chin to remind me.

I’ve been traveling lately. Not a lot by some people’s standards, but I’ve spent more nights away from my house in the last three months than I have in the last three years, so.. yeah. 

I should say I’m torn about it. And while I hate the time away from my kids, I can’t help but love that it looks like I’m finally going to be doing different stuff at work. Fun stuff. Cool stuff.  Stuff where I can learn from smart people, make connections and branch into different responsibilities. 

It’s a risk too. I know I can learn a lot, but I’ve also been told that you “don’t make the same mistake twice.”  So, here’s hoping that when I screw up (and I will) that I only do it once.  No pressure or anything. 

This week when I was away, Cole got sick. Oh, how I hate that.  Craig had to battle a sick baby, taking him to the doctor, calling me to tell me it was an ear infection and I was four hours away.  When I came home, the little one barely let me out of his sight.  And Chessa? Well, when I picked her up at daycare, she ignored me. But after I got her home, when I walked out of the room to grab a drink, she sobbed. 

So, yeah. I’m torn. But I’m hoping we adjust. I’m hoping we find a way to make this work. I’m hoping that the opportunity is worth the risk. 

I’m hoping that after all the stress, all the flips and flops, all the tense moments and held breath that our luck is finally, finally starting to change.  But I’m still biting my lip.

A Sunday afternoon earlier this month.  

Finding joy and happiness in the simplest of things.  Like a game of hopscotch. 

And learning to jump. 

When the weather was cool but not cold. When the leaves had fallen off the trees and the calendar said we should be pulling out mittens and heating chocolate, but the day was mild and almost warm. 

So we pulled on hats and sweatshirts and went outside, determined to get a little bit of fresh air and burn some toddler energy; thinking that maybe, just maybe. the baby will take a late afternoon nap that will make the evening hours a tad more pleasant.  And then, we peeked at him, tucked in under his cozy blanket. 

And we lauged and knew that there would be no napping.

Every once in a while, you come across a company that you wish you had known about sooner.

Storkie Express is just such a company.  I was introduced to them by Heather and spent more than an hour oohing and ahhing over their wedding and baby shower invitations.  Except, oops! I’m already married and have babies… so….  I moved onto their holiday cards.

They have a ton of fantastic designs (This one?! Is perfect if you have a picture of your child sleeping.  Which of course, I don’t.)  and most of them are completely customizable. If you don’t like the background color, you can change it! If you’d rather have a different font, a different size or different wording all together, you can change it! It’s more customization than I’ve seen on any other site and gives you complete freedom over your message and final product. 

Storkie’s prices are affordable and comparable to other card production companies, but come with a guarantee that someone in their office reviews your card.  They offer digital printing on quality cardstock, letterpress (which I love!) foil embossing, and wraps and envelopes to match your card or invitation.

And, they are super fast. Orders often ship out the next business day. So if you’re like some people I know, (ahem, me) and haven’t ordered your Christmas cards yet, save yourself from a box of generic cards and check out this website.  By the weekend you’ll be addressing and stamping your unique and personalized cards. 

Check out the Storkie Express blog, follow them on Twitter or like them on Facebook to stay up to date with new products. 

Disclosure:  I received a credit in exchange for this review, but my opinions are my own.  And you can bet your bottom that I’ll be using Storkie the next time I throw a bridal shower, baby shower or just a good ol’ party!

“BA!” he says as I spoon mouthfuls of pureed carrots into his open mouth. “BA BA BA BAAAA” 

“Cole, say Momma, ” I coach back. “MA MA. MAAA MAAA.  MAAAAAA  MAA. 

From behind me the tiny little voice of my two-year-old pipes up.  “Cole Michael, say DA DA!”

Sigh.  Thanks, kid.