Sitting at home, watching the kids tumble around the living room, while I silently sit in my computer chair, wishing away the mess that is my house and pretending I showered today, I thought maybe it’d be a great idea to blog about this life. Why, I can’t tell you. We don’t live a particularly exciting life, I’m not mother of the year, there really isn’t a reason that anyone would care. Yet, here I am.
Let me start by giving you the rundown of our motley crew. There’s me, the frumpy looking mom you’ve seen in Target with a days-old ponytail & dirty yoga pants, struggling with a toddler who has a pretty effective left hook. There’s my husband, let’s just call him B, who works more than he should so that I may have the luxury of being trapped in a house with rugrats looking like a hobo (I truly am appreciative, I swear). My 2.5 year old, L, is rambunctious. That’s being kind. She’s a tornado. And a bully. She enjoys all things Tangled and Frozen, pulling cat tails, and pointing out the blatantly obvious comings and goings of our life. There’s R, my nearly 7 month old. She’s a ball of grump, wrapped in chub. She enjoys precisely nothing, other than the tears of her parents as we weep at her distaste with life in general and the antics of her sister.
We’re not exactly a mainstream family. In fact, at times, we’re downright crunchy. If you don’t know what that means, it means we’re essentially the dirty hippies your parents warned you to stay away from. We co-sleep. By that, I mean we no-sleep. Because not a single (adult) person in our house is getting any sleep. We cloth diaper, because ya know, we thoroughly enjoy poop. We often eat organic, though who knows if that really means anything. Also, and here’s the one you’ll likely really cringe at, with R, we had a planned home birth. With a midwife. Not in a hospital. With my two year old present in the next room.
We practice a slew of other AP (attachment parenting, look it up) principles, but I wouldn’t really say that we identify with attachment parenting on the whole. In fact, I yell. Often. I lose my cool on the daily. Hell, I treat time outs as a mini two-minute vacation. I just don’t think we’re cut out for attachment parenting. We just fumble along, hoping we’re doing alright.
So that’s us. I’ll attach a picture of us from this past fall, looking like the straight-up dorks we are. You can clearly see how much both children love us for the enriching experience that is family photos. Enjoy.