Top

Fluent in Blonde

Main navigation

/ Babies, Mom Life, Toddlers

Post Partum Survival : Blowing Up Your Husband’s Phone By 4:00 PM and Other Tips

We’re three months in to three kids, four and under.

That big “3” is a flagged milestone for me, because in the past, I’ve always struggled right here. At three months, the adrenaline is gone, life insists on hitting the gas again, and I’m kinda sorta just running alongside with my shirt stuck in the door. That’s three months. Breathless while yelling, “We’re doing it! We’re doing it!”


A few things have made life a tad easier, and the transition significantly smoother. My life would have been much easier if I’d figured this out before the third time around:

Paper or plastic. I’m not environmentally considerate when I’m in new mom mode, just to be clear. My sanity trumps the planet for a couple of months. We go all paper plates, and even put them where the real dishes are. Plastic utensils. No dishes. Maybe no food sometimes, too.

I’ll plant some trees in a few years.

Alone time. Naptime has been a real bust lately. My boys have been sharing a room for five months, so one is always a displaced wanderer while the little one naps-but-not-really, and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve realized that rest time is just as much for me as it is for them.

Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms for naptime, please know that Mommy will lose her mind and throw away all the toys with batteries.

I just need about 30 or 45 quiet minutes to myself. I have to sit down…without someone climbing on me, FOR THE LOVE. Instead of frustration from failed attempts to keep my boys contained in individual rooms, I do rest time backwards: I am in MY room. I leave the door open, and from there I can see them in our loft as I let them watch too much TV, but it’s a game changer.

One clean room. That’s it. Just one. Clean as an adjective, or clean as a verb, it doesn’t matter; not happening. It’s borderline impossible to have a clean home, or even just CLEAN a home, with little boy shadows that are four and two. For my sanity, I’ve let it go. It drives me a tiiiiny bit less crazy if there is just ONE room in the house that’s clean, even if it’s the guest bathroom.

(Today, I made my bed, then grabbed socks from my dresser. I sat back on the bed to put them on, and a little, annoyed voice asked me to please get off of his nest. In that .82 seconds it took me to grab socks, my sheets and pillows were silently wrapped up in what looked like a weird tangle of spaghetti noodles.

I mean, nest.

Soooo, copy and paste that scenario with the rest of my house.)

Hire someone to clean the house. Sell your soul if you have to, or your kidney. You only need one of those.

Eat. Sounds stupid. I get busy darting around to semi-time sensitive matters: feeding a baby, investigating silence, saving a kitchen pot from flying over the wall (“to the moon”), keeping someone from climbing on the fridge, naptime, pulling my children out of the washing machine. (That was also today. You know, it’s really just been a rough day.) I don’t even think to eat because, wait, is that a bath running?!

Hold on. I have to eat, though. I’m so much happier and have much more energy when I eat. ‘Cause humans need food, you know? I have quick snacks to grab on the go, and pre-made protein shakes have been lifesavers.

Hell must be pretty close to freezing over if I, Ashton, have to remind myself to eat.

Friends. I have to get out and see civilization. Meeting friends for an outing makes me so happy, even if I get there with bent sunglasses and sweats.

Text your husband a LOT around 3:30 as a distress signal. I don’t know. It just makes me feel better. It is a W I L D time at my house, but it’s hilarious and brings so many laughs. Every day is a new adventure and very entertaining…until about 3:30. At that late afternoon point, I’d say we’re doing a little better than just “surviving,” but a solid belly flop down from “thriving.” When I text Brian, “Hey babe, so what time you think you’ll be home? Home for dinner?” he knows it’s cryptic MAYDAYYYY. Does he always respond to my flares? No. Maybe he’s working. Maybe he’s ignoring me. Either way, that’s when I return to cleaning up red Popsicle to the beat of the Paw Patrol theme song.

Have a general “IDK IDGAF LOL” attitude. (Mom, don’t look those up.) Just don’t care. We safe? Fed? At least have undies on? Great. I’ve heard several people mention, “This, too, shall pass.” I kind of hate that. I KNOW it will pass, and I’m not sure if I’ll want it to. I don’t want to ride out this season of life like I’m huddled in a storm cellar. I LOVE having young kids at home! It’s exhausting and crazy, but I want to embrace it! Not sweating the small stuff sure helps enjoy it, cupboards full of paper plates and all.

/ Family, Mom Life, Parenting, Toddlers, What's Going On Wednesday

Roscoe Turns Three, + Life in iPhone Photos

This little mister is three.

Usually, I have the, “I can’t believe my baby is __!” feelings, but this birthday was opposite. I can’t believe Roscoe is ONLY three. He seems so much older!

Above all, Roscoe is SWEET. He has the most precious, high-pitched voice and the face of an innocent little angel. Judging by the amount of scribbles on the wall, “innocent” is not quite accurate. Sometimes angel, never innocent. 🙂 Roscoe is strong willed, independent, determined, and confident. I hope he holds on tightly to those characteristics, but if we could dilute them just a bit, it would make toddlerhood a lot less…toddler-y.

He runs our family with a very effective combination of contagious laughter and a major ‘tude, the likes of which our household had never experienced. In an interesting twist, his little fire inside has created an eager, motivated child. You want his shoes on? Done. (He knows the pair he wants and there will be no alternative.) Want him buckled in the car? Done. Want him to get Pick up Shayne? No, of course not. But he’s done that, too.

He even potty trained himself in December to wear Gus’s Ninja Turtle undies. Really. I discouraged it, because, duh. Why would I be mid-potty training with a new baby? I told him, “You can’t wear those, but you wear diapers! YAY! Diapers are great! Maybe when you’re bigger and don’t wear diapers anymore, we can get you some underwear!” Next thing I knew, he had on Gus’s underwear. Every. Single. Day. I told him he couldn’t wear them if he went potty in them.

“K.”

“Tell me if you need to go potty. If you need to go, I can help you, okay? Oh, gosh, can you reach the toilet? Let me know!”

“K.”

(Spoken like a real boy.)

And…that was it.

He’s since received his own underwear, for the record.

Roscoe is seriously theeee cutest little heart exploder. He loves to “snuttle” with you at night, draws on walls and feels deeply apologetic about it, does it again the next week, loves blue anything, our friend/occasional babysitter Drew, Power Rangers, bad guys, and his sister. His birthday was full of gasps and absolute amazement. I’ve never seen such awe at Chuck E Cheese. I LOVE this boy. He melts me.

(Look at this blurry excitement! He was so enthusiastic when Chuck E came out…to sing to another kids, because that’s not the birthday package I bought. I stand by that decision, but was thrilled we had the opportunity to freeload.)

Today, we celebrated again as a graduation ceremony was commenced.

We were so proud as Gus opened the preschool graduation program, leading the audience in a dazzling rendition of The Pledge of Allegiance. “…with yiberty and justice for ALL.”

Gus completing a whole year of preschool and still not quite pronouncing “L” is such a tender mercy. I will cry when he figures it out.

He’ll be back in one more year of pre-k next year, and Roscoe is chomping at the bit for his turn at school. He already loves Gus’s preschool teacher, and has had his own backpack ready in the closet since last fall! In fact, today he hopped in the program, and already knew all the songs from Gus…so, we let him stay and perform while I fed Shayne. Roscoe wasn’t quick to give up the spotlight after his birthday yesterday.

Lastly, Mother’s Day. I love being Brian’s wife on Mother’s Day. There are no gifts involved, per se, but he takes great care of me. He made my favorite food, Eggs Benedict and salmon with “a mango relish.” All those hours of Food Network are really paying off.

My only request was to be alone in my room with visiting hours, which was a joking-haha-not-really-joking idea, but my boys were just too cute to hide from. Wonder if I can redeem that later.

My favorite photos from the day: my boys not wanting to take a picture with me, my boys running away from me, leaving me with the only baby who can’t escape, and the last one. Oh, that last one. Gus and Roscoe routinely veer off into the bushes, and walk on the cinderblock dividing wall. We routinely ask them not to. So, ditto on Mother’s Day. Little feet trying to sneak through the rocks, rustling leaves, little heads bobbing around in bushes. Tromping around and someone falling off the wall. I’m already laughing in this picture and Roscoe fell off the two foot wall shortly after this was taken. (He’s fine. It happens often.)

I love this photo for the pause button that it is on our life right now, and it makes me laugh every time I see it.

/ Babies, Family, Mom Life

Shayne’s Blessing Weekend

Gus abruptly told a stranger in the store the other day, “My daddy is gone.”

The person was completely caught off guard, looked sympathetically at me, and was at an awkward loss of words trying to decipher that meaning.

I asked Gus what he meant.

“Yeah. Daddy’s gone.”
“What are you talking about? He’s not gone.”
“He’s in college.”
“What?”
“He’s in Germany.”
“What?! No, he’s at work…where is always is. Everyday.”

Semantics, really, but yes. Gone. We’re all feeling a little discombobulated with the three on one parenting as Brian’s absence is felt after he resumed his normal work schedule.

…even though that resumption was a long time ago.

Anyway, I rarely have free hands these days, but I wanted to post some photos from Shayne’s baby blessing!

At our church, Brian gave her a sweet blessing, and we were beyond grateful to have so much family travel from out of state to celebrate Shayne. My grandparents completely spoiled my boys, buying them gifts and treating us all to my boys’ favorite restaurant. Both of Brian’s sisters drove 5+ hours, husbandless, kids in tow. I’m seriously so impressed, and flattered that they came! We LOVED spending time with our cousins and grandparents, and it made the weekend extra exciting for my boys.

Shayne wore this little number, made from my wedding dress. The dress detail is just fluff in relation to the blessing, but it was a major highlight for me. I never had predetermined kids’ names since age thirteen, but I’d always wanted to make a special baby blessing dress. Kind of a dream come true, if you will.

How did I get these three?/How do I have three?/I couldn’t be luckier to have my own little family within my biiiig (and growing!) family!

/ Babies, Mom Life

This Bunny Clock Is Making Me Try Harder & Also A Little Bipolar

I once read that time unwatched is its own treasure.

It’s a double edged sword, that time unwatched thing. I cycle through both sides of it every day.

Although the “unwatched” detail is a bit unintentional in my situation, due in part to being frazzled, I’ve very much treasured this time home with my kids as the new-baby dust settles.

So much so that I have yet to hop back into my job full throttle, even though I love my work. I’ve also enjoyed time away from my computer and phone.

We’ve been home, making forts, playing “police getaway cars,” and changing new baby sister’s bows every few hours.

Time has just drifted, gently and without aim. As a person who is always scheduled, this is the first time I’ve let it, because it seems almost merciful.

Our mornings are lazy. Some of us enjoy a little nap from a long night, while others enjoy the new freedom this brings. The four (!) of us stay in jammies until the tractors we play with have a new construction job near a dresser, and we pause to choose a shirt, and whatever mismatched pants are clean/especially favored.

What a luxury to enjoy these long, bright mornings that then greet the afternoon as we picnic in our backyard.

(It’s a very small backyard, and the cuisine is Cars mac and cheese, but still.)

Several times a day, I am in Shayne’s room, swaddling her, feeding her, changing her, and lying her down for naps…and there’s always this clock.

I feel like this new ticking clock in Shayne’s room is kinder with its time, more generous than past clocks. This clock seems more friendly and warmer than Time usually does (the bunny ears will do that). When I rock with my baby in her glittering room, that clock is smiling at me, telling me to go ahead. Enjoy. Savor the minutes. Don’t rush. Don’t make a list. Don’t worry about your phone. Be MIA. I can hear the seconds tick along with my most loved, squeaky new baby noises while we snuggle in her rocking chair.

And I am so deeply grateful for this blissful time unwatched.

So, we go slowly.

Sometimes, there is nothing I love more; sometimes, the pace drives me crazy.

Is that the hormones?

I like to stay busy. I enjoy productivity. I don’t hold still. In fact, I haven’t even been to a movie in YEARS. I can’t sit still in a theater, and if I must, my mind still wanders out of there while making notes of forgotten groceries and other to-do lists. My good friends know this “staying home and relaxing” thing has been a difficult art for me to master. I love (LOVE) slow days with my babies, but it DOES come at the expense of a constantly messy house, and a smaller second income from my working a little less.

My mental state by 3PM is occasional collateral damage, also.

I have two shadows. Alwaaays. Those shadows have no real plans most of the week, and by late afternoon, I just crave a few feet…but shadows gon’ shadow.

My shadows are not inconspicuous. They’re working on their inside voices (Brian recently hosted a mildly successful “how to close the door without slamming it” seminar in their room), and with a new baby in the house, they’re a little more frustrating to have Power Ranger-ing in a room.

When they’re not shadowing, they’re either being sweet playing together, or making very impressive messes. It’s a dice I roll.

I struggle to not lose my patience every day.

I’ve gone through a lot of Magic Erasers.

I’m tired.

…but then, there’s that ticking clock. When I’m at my wit’s end, in a house bewildered by its own disarray, there’s this clock I hear. That little second hand, sneaking by. A bit more time, sneaking by.

And it takes me back to the beginning of my giddy-frustrated-guilty-giddy cycle with the same thought: time unwatched is its own treasure.

(I’ll keep you posted when the AA batteries are removed if my emotional teeter-tottering becomes too exhausting.)

/ Babies, Family, Mom Life, Pregnancy, Toddlers

Gus and Roscoe Meet Shayne

After a long afternoon with a four-year-old, two-year-old, and 5-week-old, I’m not exactly sure who has the reins. There are reins, right? This morning started earlier than normal, questioning the whereabouts of two pairs of child scissors. (Don’t underestimate the possibilities.)

At some point, I scooped up my boys, and we watched this a few times. They LOVE watching this special video, and it made me teary and a little more patient.

Our friend Davis Mackay caught every second of Gus and Roscoe meeting their brand new baby sister, and I’ll love it forever!

I love watching the boys run in with their own, well-loved blanket to gift Shayne, and being reminded of their sweet thoughtfulness. I love the Las Vegas sky and reminiscing about the very unusual, snowy morning we’d had earlier. I love feeling my boys’ wonder for both their baby sister as well as everrrrything else in the hospital room all over again. I worried that Davis coming in four hours after delivery might make for some weird footage, but, as it turns out, I cherish everything about the newness of my baby girl (and epidural numbness in my legs ha), and am thrilled we caught her before she headed into the NICU.

Davis Mackay. If you’re having a baby, go find him.

/ Babies, Family, Laughing Keeps Things Real, Mom Life, Parenting, Toddlers, What's Going On Wednesday

A Little Update + The Great Cadbury Egg Debate

As you might assume, I’m now nocturnal.

Except for the sleeping during the day thing. There’s none of that. Just up at night.

Maybe that’s a vampire?

Ohh…wait. Just Googled it. Even vampires rest in the day. (In coffins.)

I can tell I’m about to fall off a tangent-cliff about new moms being immortal if vampires are sleeping more than they are, but…I’m tired.

I do enjoy a little extra shut eye during Gus’s prayers lately. They’re the sweetest, most pure, thorough prayers, and if Roscoe doesn’t start whispering, “SAY AMEN!” I can lean back in my chair and get comfortable.

“Please bless my whooole entiiiiire family….and I’m…just thankful for lightbulbs. And pork chops. And baby sister. Today, I saw a military helicopter! OH MY GOSH. (Pause.) I want to see another military helicopter. Please bless my whooooole entiiiire family. Please bless the neighbors to throw my ball back over the wall. We’re thankful for our food. Please bless us that—Roscoe! I saw you do that! You opened your eyes. I’ll start again. Heavenly Father, please bless my whooole entire family…”

Sometimes, I even have time to make a little Target list in my head.

We spent time focusing on the two C’s this weekend: Christ, and Cadbury Eggs.

While I receive criticism, I’m a Cadbury Crème Egg devotee. Cadbury Mini Egg fans seem to be under the impression that they have a more refined palate than I, or that the crème “yolk” is, and I quote, “nasty,” but they’re wrong. Does the spelling of “crème” tell you nothing about the lavish delicacy that this 2/$1.00 egg of Easter elegance is?!

I found these cookies and had to try them. I also notified friends of their existence! Well, okay, one friend. I only know one person that likes Crème Eggs. Should I call you out, Tiffany?

They were disgusting (obviously).

Judging by the number of packages towering on the store display, I was the only person that thought they might not be.

Got me there, Cadbury Mini Egg people.

My boys and I enjoyed a friend’s cute Easter Egg hunt! She stuffed eggs with little toys, and my boys played with them all week.

We decorated Easter eggs on Saturday while Gus was sick. If you have more than one child, you know the waiting game…juuuust waiting for the next child to share germs. Like clockwork, Roscoe woke up sick Easter morning. Luckily, they were both distracted with their Easter baskets, so we lounged the rest of the day.


(Roscoe’s forced smile always looks a little suspicious…) (And, hey! Only one egg cracked! Haha Proud of these guys!)

Because of the little bug going around my house, I bust out the Lysol wipes and semi-quarantined Shayne.

And made her into a bunny.

Brian laughed and said he would have no part in it, but in the end, ALL the boys and I cracked up playing with her bunny ears our fun friend Wendy gave her. Do you see the little bunny tail on the tutu?! Ahh! We kind of fall all over “baby sister;” even Gus and Roscoe baby talk to her. That need to squeeze her was substantially increased by the bunny ears and tail.

Hopefully, we sleep well tonight after I’ve pep-talked my children about tomorrow: hitting the grocery store early to get the Easter candy half off.

You know how those Crème Eggs fly off the shelves.

Join the Tribe

[instagram-feed]