In the eye of the storm.

My husband and I built a house in 2020. I distinctly remember telling him when it was time to move, I wanted the kids to go stay with family. I didn’t want them to have to be in the middle of the chaos that is moving. I wanted them to come home and see their rooms unpacked. To find comfort in their new home right away.

In retrospect, this is hilarious. And, ridiculous.

We moved in April 2020. In the eye of the storm. With lockdowns in place, we had little help and were certainly not sending our littles to stay with family. The kids, they were right in the center of the chaos - carrying boxes and sleeping on mattresses on the floor.

What I learned this year, and I continue to learn, over and over, is that we can’t shield those we love from the storm. Whether that storm is figurative or a literal derecho. We must sit in the dark hallway with the fear until the storm has passed.

In 2019, we made the decision to keep our daughter at her small private school for kindergarten. We assumed, when it was time to transition her to the public school she’d attend for first grade and beyond, we’d have the ability to tour the school. We’d attend an open house and acquaint ourselves with the teachers and school. We were wrong.

When her first day came this year, I walked her to the front door of the school. That was it. She was on her own. My six-year-old was masked-up, walking into a building neither one of us had ever entered, being greeted by people we had never met. She turned to me, with tears in her eyes and said; “Mom, I don’t know where I’m going!”

I cried the entire walk home.

When I picked her up that afternoon, I quickly noticed a different bounce in her step. She was walking with more confidence as she told me about the teacher she met when she got to school that morning. She told me every turn she took to get to her classroom.

This is what I'm learning over and over. We can't shield ourselves from the storm. We have to feel the cold darkness. To cry on the walk home. To allow the fear to fill our eyes and bubble over. Because only then will we be able to walk out of this year with a different bounce in our step. With a little more confidence. Telling each other every turn we took to get there.

Lane Assist

I bought a Subaru Outback just over a year ago. With it, came this amazing feature “lane assist.” If you’re not familiar, this feature maps your lanes and gives you a gentle nudge if your vehicle veers out of said lanes. I'm not a girl who gets too excited about cars. In fact, I was was once on SR22 insurance due to too many accidents. However, I find this feature to be quite literally a life saver.

It’s also a reminder each day of my role as a parent.

I remember telling a co-worker just after Nora was born that I always thought parenting was about making our kids into the best versions of themselves. But, once Nora was born, I knew she was already her best self. As a baby, I could see it in her eyes. I knew, through her eyes, my job was to map the lanes for her, and gently nudge her each time she was veering out of the them.

But, my job has gotten so much harder these last few months. My dear Nora is driving on roads that are unfamiliar to both of us. Kindergarten is in full swing. For us, this means her brain is going faster than a Subaru can drive. The lanes she has grown accustomed to staying in are expanding. She is seeking more control. She is falling apart and wanting to put the pieces back together herself. For God’s sake, her teeth are falling out of her mouth! Ha!

So, each morning I look into those sweet eyes and remember that my job is the gentle nudge. The lane assist. It’s not to drive the car for her (no matter how tempting). And while lane assist doesn’t prevent accidents, it helps keep us aware of the boundaries.

In short, kindergarten is hard.

And we can do hard things.

Cheers, my friends!

The After

It’s been a little over a year since we discovered Weston’s coconut allergy. And, not quite a year since we eliminated dairy from his diet. To say we’ve seen vast improvements in his sleep, well-being and behavior, is an understatement.

When I share the story of Weston’s health challenges for the first two years of his life, I’m always met with the comment; “did everything get so much better after you figured it out?”

And, the answer is; “yes!”

But also; “no!”

You see, after the hundreds of up-all-nights, the thousands of questions to the doctor, husband, friends and family, after we started sleeping again, after Weston started smiling more than he coughs, and after everything didn’t seem so hard, I realized I was changed.  

The After. Thankful our little guy is happier and healthier. Photo by Studio K Squared

And change is hard.

Last year, around my birthday, I woke up after only a couple hours of sleep, and I stayed awake for almost four hours. For no reason. Just awake. In a panic about how I would feel the next day with so little sleep. I’d been there {exhausted} before. Hundreds of times. For good reason. Because I was up all night with a sick child. But this wasn’t for a good reason. I just couldn’t sleep.

Then, it happened again a few months later. And, again, a few months after that. Then, once a week for many months. And, finally, many nights in a row.

So, I began to do an inventory on my life.

I noticed an electricity in my body at the mere sound of a cough. A physical reaction to a noise that had caused myself, and my family, so much pain.

I noticed relationships I once took for granted. Cracked. Strained. Not what they once were but not something evolved either.

And I noticed myself still in overdrive. Still regimented in my activities. Trying to control the uncontrollable.

Did life get so much better after we figured out what was causing Weston so much pain, and our family such heartache?

Yes!

But also, no!

Because, I’m learning, my friends, in the after, you’re left with the remnants of the trauma you’ve experienced. These remnants, they're gifts. But, it's up to you to find their place with the new you. 

A Blue Camaro

It happened again the other day. Heels on. Professional attire in place. I grabbed my coat to head out for a meeting. I zipped it up, and put my hands in my pockets for warmth (because I’m never put together enough to remember gloves). And there it was. I could feel the familiar outline. I felt the curves of the metal and the curve creep across my face too. My smile was uncontrollable. 

A small blue Hot Wheel Camaro was in my pocket.

I was so thankful to hold it. To smile for a second and think of my little man who never leaves home without a vehicle in his hand. While he spends his days at school, and I spend my days at work, we are connected.

These little reminders of my daily motivation, they’re everywhere. Sometimes it's a blue Camaro and sometimes it's a purple hair bow. They're in my coat pockets, purse, and under the seats of my car. Every time I find one I can’t help but smile.

This season of parenting is hard. There's never any time and I always feel I'm stretched too thin. But these tiny reminders, they help. They are quick examples of my why. Why I wake up before the sun rises, and close down my computer long after it sets.

This car is neither blue or a Camaro. It was another car. On another day.

I already know, one day, in the not-so-distant future, I’ll stop finding these reminders everywhere I look. The Camaro and the purple bow will be missing from my pockets, and the little people they belong to won’t be so little anymore.

So, for now, I smile with gratitude. And refill my coffee.

Cheers!

To My Babies’ {Other} Mamas

I remember the first time it happened. I was dropping Nora off at her first daycare - an in-home center. Nora reached for the woman who ran the daycare and said; “mama!”. I could tell the woman felt uncomfortable. I didn’t.

When your child is small, they sometimes liken the word “mama” to love. "Mama" can come to be shorthand for the individual who cares for them, provides comfort and dries their tears. When Nora uttered those syllables, I felt comforted. I felt it was a clear sign that during those long hours while I worked, she was feeling loved by this wonderful woman.

Fast forward to a few more daycares, another child, and so many more “mamas”. As the season of back to school is upon us, I can’t help but reflect on what these teachers mamas have meant to our family.

Thank you doesn’t seem to capture it, but I’ll try

To the woman who walked the halls. I remember getting to daycare for what felt like the one millionth time to pick him up sick. You weren’t “his teacher” anymore. He had already transitioned to the next room. But, there you were all the same. Cradling him and walking the halls. So calm. So loving. I’m sure you were tired. I know I was. But, you pushed through that tired so gracefully and found an extra gear. Thank you for finding that gear for my boy. Thank you for loving my boy like he was your own. And, for ignoring my silent, tired tears as I took him from your arms.

To the woman who exuded pride. Sometimes it feels like our littles are the only littles who have ever learned to walk or count or sing the ABCs. It’s always nice when someone genuinely shares your pride in your littles’ accomplishments. Thank you for the countless texts and pictures of our little writer working tirelessly on her letters. Thank you for spending your own time and money to put together lines and curves for her to practice at home. Thank you for sharing my pride as she beamed with pride at all you accomplished and learned together.

To the man who changed her card to yellow. I hate to label a four year old, but honestly, sometimes you have to call a spade a spade. So, I'll say it. I believe my daughter to be Type A. To her, a green behavior card - the color that symbolizes a good day - is not enough. Every day must be a pink card day. Pink symbolizes exceptional, and that's certainly what she's striving for each day. But, sometimes, just sometimes, we all have yellow card days, don't we? And you were brave enough to call a spade a spade too. You switched her card to yellow knowing it wouldn't be easy on her. And, you took the time to talk her through it. And me too. We all learned that day that life isn't easy and we can't be great all the time. Except for you. You were great. Thank you for taking the time. Thank you for being brave with us.

To the woman who loved them no matter what. For over two years you cared for at least one of them. You laughed when they said funny things and shed tears when they were sick. You embraced them for the people they are - the crazy and the sassy. You saw the little person in the midst of all the big emotions no matter what. You made room in your arms for extra cuddles and became an extension of our family. Thank you. Thank you for making your lap a second home. Thank you for loving them for who they are - the good and the not-so-good. That's what mamas do!

Both Sides Now

My daughter is about to turn four.

I feel my Mom universe starting to shift.  This small person who I have the pleasure to call my daughter is becoming less toddler and more young lady. She hears things. Absorbs. Understands. She feels tough emotions and wants help navigating them.

I’m so excited to see the person she is slowly becoming beyond the fits and tantrums of toddler-hood. I also can’t help but already miss these days gone by. These days of chubby cheeks and forgetting the “y” in yesterday.

I feel I’m wandering through Joni Mitchell’s song Both Sides Now.

I see motherhood from both sides now.

I imagine this won’t be the only time I’ll feel this way. I imagine it will rush over me many times throughout my motherhood journey.

But, today, I’m moving out of the stage where kisses fix all hurt and into a stage where I must explain why it’s OK if she isn’t someone’s “best friend”. We’re done with diapers, cribs, and clothing sizes that end with the letter “T”! She asks what hard-to-define words like "bullshit" mean {Note to self: Watch your mouth!}. She watches closely as I curl my hair and asks me why I do so.

Yet, she still wants to live with us forever, marry her dad and grow up to be Adele.

Yup, I’ve look at motherhood from both sides now.

I’m realizing I don’t know motherhood at all.

Dear Nora James...

I can honestly say that at three years old, you are one of my absolutely favorite people.

I don’t mean that I like you because you’re my daughter. I mean, of all the people I’ve come across in my life, I’d choose you to be around!

Want to know why?

You’re Funny.

You say hilarious things all the time. You told Weston’s friend at school that “your brother needs a little space!” You were insistent that we’d have a purple cake with a rhino on it for your birthday, and think you can only “giddy-up” while wearing sparkle shoes. But, beyond the funny things you say and do, you have a sense of humor that is dry and off-the-wall. I appreciate it so much!

You Listen.

You ask your dad and me how our days were during dinner. Then, you nod your head as we talk about our experience and ask follow-up questions. Do you know how rare this is? There are so many adults who don’t take the time to truly listen. And, at age three, you do! How cool is that? 

You are an Amazing Sister.

Your entire demeanor and tone changes when Weston is around. You bend down to look him in the eye even though he’s not much smaller than you. You offer to share your birthday presents with him and yell from the other room that you’ll be right there when he’s crying. The genuine care you show for him makes me happier than you’ll ever know.

You know what you want and you won’t stop until you get it.

I’ll be honest, sometimes this is a hard one as your mom! I’ve never met someone as stubborn as you. You don’t back down when there is something you want. And, while at three this can be frustrating, I know that this drive will serve you well in the long-term. 

You have vision!

You go to great lengths to tell me about the things you want. You leave no detail out! This can (and does) often include the shoes you think you should wear for a particular activity and / or how you think we should proceed with a family adventure. I often think it’s my job to just keep you safe on your quest toward your vision!

But, ultimately, Nora James, I hope you know that for three years you have been loved. Through every smile, tear and frustrating-as-hell moment, you have brought so much joy to your dad and me. Today, and every day since you were born – I love you and I like you!

Cheers, little lady!

Mom, Are You Pretending to be the Mom?

Both of my littles enjoy playing with babies. I love it. They sweetly kiss their dolls and swaddle them in blankets. They ignore all recommendations by their pediatrician and lie them face first on the floor to “go to sleep.” I’m serious, sometimes it looks like a baby doll graveyard in our living room while my littles alternate patting various baby dolls' backs.

Recently, I was honored to play baby. I laid on the floor as Nora put a blanket over top me while she and Weston patted my back. As they finished getting me to sleep, I told them to lie down so they could play my babies. To which Nora responded; “Mom, are you pretending to be the mom?"

Ah, yes, Nora! Every day for almost three years, I have been pretending to be the mom. 

When both of my kids are sick and throwing up simultaneously, I pretend.

When sleep deprivation’s effects take over, I pretend.

When someone is funny and / or cute when they are supposed to be in trouble, I pretend.

When my toddler agrees to wear undies but not to pee on the potty, I pretend.

When toddler tantrums seem to escalate by the day, I pretend.

When one bout of illness fades into the next and scary thoughts run through my head, I pretend.

And, when my heart expands by the day with not only love but the most immense pride in my two littles achieving new, hard things, I pretend I was prepared for it all!

Cheers to pretending!

My Biggest Struggle as a Mom

My house is a disaster as I sit here and type this. I don’t mean a little messy, I mean I see a banana caked to the floor right below my feet. In addition to the banana, there is a stack of bills that need some attention and work that I missed on Friday afternoon when I was unexpectedly called to daycare to pick up a little man with a fever. In short, there’s always something that needs my attention.

You know who cares about none of these things? Two little people. And this is my biggest struggle as a mom. How do I embrace all the clichés – it goes by too fast, enjoy every moment, they’re only little once, the dishes can wait, etc. – while maintaining my status as a productive member of society?!

I’ve noticed my best, most enjoyable days as a mom are the days when I lower my expectations. I forget about the banana, bills and work, and surrender to the little people who care about none of that. We play at their whim and go on epic family adventures. But I wake up the next day, and all of those items continue to pile up.

What’s the right balance between getting things done and getting in quality time with our littles?

 

I’m asking because I don’t know. But, I’ve found that routine helps. That fitting in picking the house up after the kids go to bed helps. And, choosing a task a day spreads the workload. Ultimately, there’s no perfect solution but we keep getting better.

What’s your top struggle and how do you find time to get it all done?

A version of this post previously appeared on St. Luke's Birth Care Center

Talking About Scones, Again!

To say the months leading up to welcoming our son were stressful is an understatement. My work was going through a merger which included a name-change and massive re-branding. As the marketing director, this meant long hours for months on end (for me and the little man in my belly). In addition to that, the daycare our daughter had attended since she was three months old made the decision to close. We were on a search for a new place to love our littles after starting at a new place that was proving to not be a good fit.

I’d wake up each day tired and sore. I’d drop my daughter off at school and leave with her in tears. I’d answer emails, that weren’t always pleasant, at all hours of the day, and head into work to deal with a team that wasn’t quite integrating. In between it all, I’d stop at our local co-op and treat myself to a scone.  I’d made friends with the workers there. They watched my belly grow and on the day my son was born asked, “When are you due?” To which I replied, “Hopefully today!”

This is all to say this scone obsession started long before my maternity leave. In the week after Weston was born, Andy went to grab a scone and surprise me with it. After entering our member number at the check-out, the lady working exclaimed, “Did your wife have her baby?!” I had been caught! I had to admit that our son was made primarily of raspberry cream scones.

As I slowly figured out the recipe that made our new family of four hum, I also figured out a recipe to make my own scones. I figured out how to put one little down for a nap without the other one completely losing it about the time I realized I needed more cream in the scone recipe. I figured out that we run best with structure as I added another tablespoon of sugar to the scones. I learned that my heart would indeed grow so big with this new addition that sometimes it felt it might explode as I finalized the glaze for my baked goods. And, as a result, I might have the only two year old who counts “scone” as one of her initial words.

So, please enjoy my tried and true recipe. It really is a labor of love!

Cheers!

Raspberry Cream Scones

(from someone who really doesn’t know her way around the kitchen)

Combine the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Then, mix the cream, egg and vanilla in a smaller bowl and place it in the fridge (Google why having very cold ingredients is important for scones). Next, cut the butter into small cubes and mix it in with the dry ingredients. I use something like this to mix it. Using your hands is not ideal as, again, you want your ingredients (especially the butter) to remain as cold as possible.

Next, mix in your "wet" ingredients. I typically fold them in with a spatula. Then, mix in about a cup of the fruit of your choice. The below finished product shows blueberries instead of raspberries. Finally, I brush on a little cream and sprinkle sugar and salt on top to ensure they are crispy on the outside and flaky on the inside.

PS - Other uses for scones include; toddler bribery, husband bribery and exhaustion relief... they really are a cure all!

It Takes a Village

It’s happened a few times recently. I belabored a topic having to do with my children. Something serious like missing their daycare’s open house. I mean that’s the stuff that lands adults in therapy, right? And, a coworker looked at me knowingly and said, “You gotta let that stuff go!”

And, you know what? I believe her! I believe her because she has two grown, successful daughters. I believe her because her marriage has weathered the years it took to parent those women while simultaneously developing a successful career. She’s been where I am. She can tell me to let it go and I believe I should.

I fired off a text to a good friend recently. Something about my exhaustion and tears and worry about my little guy suffering through yet another cold. She sent love. And listened. And said, “If I were closer, I’d hold him while you slept!”

And, you know what? I believe her! She has littles too. She gets it! And years of friendship between the two of us have built-up loyalty. The thing is, she was there. With her words and time and love.

I stood at daycare and shed a few tears as I dropped my son off in his new room. My tears surprised me. This wasn’t a new daycare. It’s the place he’s always gone. The place we love that loves our littles. All the same, the tears came as I ran into one of his former teachers. Her reply? “My son is drinking out of a real cup! Not a sippy cup! I get it!”

And, you know what? I believe her! She has all but held my hand through tough days. More importantly, she has held my baby when he’s been happy, sad, confused and everything in between. She has shared stories about being in the trenches with her own son as I’ve crawled my way out of the trenches with mine. I believe her when she says she gets it because she does!

They say it takes a village to raise a family. And, you know what? I believe them! I believe them because I don’t know where’d I’d be without these people! These are just some of the important people who I share the joy and tears of parenting with. The people I turn to when I don’t think I can make it through the hour or day or week. Some of these people have been in my life for years and others got plopped into my life just recently thanks to fate. Regardless of their duration, they are my village!

A version of this post previously appeared at St. Luke's Birth Care Center and Today Parents.

Embracing Chaos

We had “one of those nights” recently that seem all too common these days. Both kids were restless which meant their bedroom doors were revolving as Andy and I entered and exited to comfort and rock. It was a week day so the restless night turned into a busy morning, and before I knew it we were walking down the hallway of daycare thirty minutes late.

Nora seemed to be walking slower than normal. I turned to check on her just in time to see her throw up all over the floor. I quickly scooped her up to once again comfort her when round two came – on my head! We turned right around and headed home just in time for me to change my clothes, pull my puke-covered hair into a ponytail and call into a video meeting from my laptop.

After the puking episode. Is it just me or does she look a little proud?

Just another day at the Wendlings!

I’ve been quiet over here on this blog for some time. I keep thinking if my kids start sleeping consistently, work slows down or everyone stays healthy, I’ll give the blog a makeover and get back to it. But, kids don’t sleep, work doesn’t slow, and health is relative. So, now’s as good a time as ever.

It’s taken me over nine months to get to this place, but I think I’m finally embracing the chaos. I grossly underestimated how hard having two littles so close together would be. But, this is our life today. It's crazy and beautiful and will soon enough be nothing but a cloud of hazy memories. And, while I can’t always laugh in the moment or embrace my puke-covered head, I can document it! So, I’m back and committing to make this a place for love, laughter, honesty and embracing the chaos.

Cheers!

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good ,Very Bad Day in Parenting

It was 2:00 in the morning (I think?) and the two littles were crying in what can only be described as “rounds.” You know, like how you sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat? One person starts and the other joins in? Yea, it was like that! Anyway, I finally lost it. I said things I shouldn’t have and put the two year old in her bed before my husband calmly came in from the baby’s room (after FINALLY getting him to sleep) and became the voice of reason. 

Ultimately, we eventually got the two year old to sleep, the baby started crying again and everyone was up – for the day – by 6:00 am.

We decided to head to the farmer’s market because “if we push both kids in strollers, they’ll sleep!” We were excited to treat ourselves to our favorite coffee! 

They didn’t fall asleep. 

And, the coffee shop wasn’t open for this particular farmer’s market. 

We cut our losses and headed back to the car because “if we drive around, the kids will sleep!” We were excited to get coffee at Starbucks in this new scenario because it has a drive-thru. 

When we arrived back to the car there was a flat tire. (I’m certain this was my karmic retribution for the lack of grace I showed in the wee hours of the morning.) 

And, the day was just getting started. From there we encountered technical issues with the bad tire that required tow truck dispatch, a friend picked us up, and we left a trail of Cheerios in her clean vehicle as a thank-you for her kind heart.

I write all of this down so I can laugh in a few years when I’m looking back at this time in our lives that can only be described as chaos. We’ll forget. This post will remind us! And, it will be funny. But only in retrospect because the day ended with a black cat running in front of our car. Mama said there’d be days like this, right?