I am having one of those days...

...where I just might stay in pj's until I have to go get the boys.
Not that there is anything wrong.  We just had a busy weekend and it is rainy and the baby is sweet and I can't leave the house because the washer repair guy is coming.
And I am sleepy.
I have found that I sleep worse when my husband is in port than when he is at sea.  I suppose it makes sense.  When he's in port I fall asleep holding the phone, computer with its blue blinking light is bedside (usually it stays downstairs), hair brush at the ready--always migrating under my pillow all just in case he calls and wants to Skype.  This might seem silly, but this port go-round I have talked with him more between the hours of 12 and 5 a.m. than day light hours.  I shouldn't complain.  It's awesome to talk to and see him.  But time changes are a beast.
Maybe a nap with Em is in order once Mr. Repair Man is finished.  Or another cup of coffee then out on an adventure?  No, a nap.
Definitely.

Parades

I am blogging about parades today
1. because one helped wreck our zoo day with a ridiculous influx of people coming into Waikiki and eliminating parking (LOTS of parking) along the route
2. I actually like them but haven't been to one in over three years
and
3. there is so much other garbage taking up space in my head that this is the tip of the crazy iceberg and the only bit of anything that I can sort out to make enough sense.
So, there.

Parades and I have an interesting history.
My earliest memory of parades are awesome.  In fact, every parade I have attended in my hometown has been a blast.  Even in my adult years, going to the parade with my family was one of my favorite parts of summertime.
Then we moved.
And Charleston parades were kind of a pain.  Driving and parking and traffic.  So we only went to one parade in Charleston.  However, we discovered the fun of parades in North Charleston.  We particularly enjoyed the Christmas parade.  The mild weather and evening time made it fun to bundle up and watch the lit-up floats go by.  Super fun.
Then we moved again.
Indiana was cool.  But the Christmas parade there was the straw that broke my PPD back.  As in we missed it and I lost my sh*t.  That's a whole other story though.
Then we were here.  And traffic on an average day is terrible.  As in I hate Waikiki and Honolulu.  As in I hardly EVER go down there because the traffic and parking stresses me out so very much.  I am sure my children have some how been deprived of awesome experiences.  But I feel like the fact that I stay sane most of the time (and wouldn't if we frequently made trips into the heart of Waikiki) makes up for it.  But add a parade into that mess and you get ridiculousness. We have never been to a parade here.  I don't think we ever will make it to one.
And that is ok with me.
I will take the boys to every parade back in Rockford we are lucky enough to be in town for.  I am pretty sure our next duty station (waiting on official orders before I make "the big announcement") will have some cool parades.

I am not clever

So I did not come up with a cute title or snippit for these pictures and videos.

Just enjoy the cuteness.

3 a.m. Revelation

I am not parenting the way I "normally" parent.
With any of my boys.
But especially the baby.
The self imposed pressure to have a quiet house, make things easy on others, whatever, has brought me to a point where sleep is crappy and I am cranky and frustrated.
85% of the time I adore the living situation.
15% of the time (times like 3 a.m. today and now) I wish it was my own space where I didn't worry that a crying baby was going to wake someone else so I kept the baby in bed with me and that resulted in nursing every.hour which made the baby throw up and me changing the sheets twice in the middle of the night.
Like I said, it's all self imposed.
Pressure from my own head and sense of "put other people first."
But at 3 a.m. I decided to forget that.
And my awake-now-but-bags-under-my-eyes-wondering-where-on-earth-I-am-going-to-get-energy-for-today self agrees.  Forget that.
Time to focus on my kiddos, get the schedule thing started, and *hopefully* better rest for baby and for me.
And you know what, we are going to have cereal for dinner.  

Some days...

...are just weepy days.
Today is like that for me.

But I am not trying to be a Debbie Downer.
So
Here are some funnies from the boys.

With Christmas being over, the boys were asking what they could "count down" to next.  They are big on counting down to stuff.  I think it is cool.  And, you know, educational, sort of, right?  So we decided to count down to Valentines day.  That's the next big, commercially celebrated, decor and treats all over the store thing. While talking about Valentine's Day, I asked if the boys would be my "dates" and go out to dinner with me.  Nic asked me how much I was going to pay him.  Seriously.  Straight faced and everything.

While waiting to get Matt's hand x-rayed yesterday (don't feel bad if you didn't know it went down...ER trips and x-rays are so ridiculously commonplace with my boys sometimes I just go with it.  He's fine, by the way) we were talking about his wish list for our next house.  These are his must-haves: a big backyard (totally get this one cause the postage stamps we have had the last three years are sad--although the surrounding common areas have been pretty BA), a fire place (for s'mores of course), and seven bedrooms.  Seven bedrooms...yep.  Apparently that is one for Andy and I, one for him and each of his brothers, one for Jeff, one for guests, and one for a playroom.  I told him he was crazy if he thought seven bedrooms was going to happen.  I threatened to make it just a two bedroom so he would have to share with all his brothers.  We settled (sort of) on four.  I am pretty sure we have both been spoiled by the current house we are in!

And then there is Em.  Who got the curious diagnosis of "Happy Puker".  Who will smile through a whole lot of spitting up.  We do a lot of laundry.  Carry a lot of wipes.  It's icky.  I have been assured it is something he will grow out of.  I hope so.  Frequent puke isn't too bad at 4 months.  At 15 years...well...not cute.  I am still going to cut out dairy (again) and soy (again) to see if that helps.  And it does make it a little better that he IS a happy puker.  Smiles right through it.  I am glad he doesn't laugh.  I might think he is a bit of a jerk in that case.

Thought for Today

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson