Six and Three

It's been six years since I became a mom and three years since we became a family of four. The boys celebrated their birthdays this weekend with a Lego party complete with Lego building table, a bounce-house and dozens of toddlers and kindergartners running around having fun and eating sugar.

At age six, Big Bro stands nearly four feet tall. He is smart, kind, adventurous and a great big brother. He loves running, playing on the playground, playing with his friends, going to school, reading, all things Lego and Ninjago, and so much more. He dislikes bedtime and homework.

At age three and 38 inches tall, Baby Bro isn't much of a baby anymore. He is sweet, clever, funny and a snugglebug. He likes running around, playing with his brother, painting, playing with trains, listening to stories, and telling jokes. He dislikes bedtime, brushing his teeth, and sharing his toys.

It's been such a joy watching these two grow bigger and closer. I'd say these are the best ages, but I say that at every age. If you'd like to continue watching them grow on our blog, please visit www.ourlifeinaz.com and subscribe. We've switched blog hosting platforms to better customize and optimize our stories for your enjoyment!

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Arizona Snow Day

There’s no question about the beauty of Arizona, with its purple mountains, spectacular sunsets, towering cacti, red rock formations and more. But perhaps the most overlooked Arizona beauty is the winter wonderland that is the northern part of the state- mountainous and pine-topped, snowy and frigid, and just a three-hour drive from our home.

We rented a cabin with family the weekend after Christmas and drove up with impeccable timing to spend three days in nearly two feet of snow. It was a fun-filled weekend of hot cocoa, board games, snowball fights, igloos and sledding hills. The big kids (Big Bro and his older cousins) could spend hours in the snow, and for me it all came back in a flash from my northern Virginia roots and a childhood of snow days.

For Baby Bro, the snow held its novelty for one day and quickly wore off. The next day, he was content to remain inside the cabin eating snacks and hanging with his grandparents after he refused to put on not one, not two, but all three pairs of shoes we brought for him on the trip. I’m all for natural consequences and I’m a tough mama, but I fall short of letting my two-year-old desert baby explore the snow in bare feet. I can handle the cold but frostbite is way beyond my wheelhouse. He was happy to kick back with candy canes while we played outside, so it was all good once I gave up on selling “winter” to my toddler. He just wasn’t buying it.

In the meantime, big bro was sold. By the third day, I practically had to drag him off a sledding hill as he asked if we could come back next year. I have to admit I was happy to hear those words.

One of the things I used to love about my hometown was that we got all four seasons. I enjoyed snow in the winter, flowers in the spring, hot, sticky summers and crunchy colorful autumn leaves. I’ve been away for more than a decade now, but that’s still the thing I miss most. Being able to experience four seasons gives the year so much more flavor.

Northern Arizona’s winter wonderland looks like a storybook, but the real beauty is in the magic of that forth day at the cabin. After breakfast we packed our things, dug out the car, and drove three hours back to a sixty-degree sunny day. I love to experience the seasons, but I love our sun even more. We don’t have to spend months shoveling or scraping ice or stepping in slush. We can just enjoy an Arizona snow day.

The Mental Load of the Holiday Season

As if a mom’s plate weren’t full enough, the second we start dishing out those Thanksgiving leftovers, our heads start spinning. The mental load many moms take on full of children's doctors appointments, play dates, household chores, meal plans and a career, is already as full as Santa’s sleigh on a snowy winter night, but we tend to find room for even more, throwing that sack over our shoulder to spread cheer.

This time of year brings more of everything. More joy, more moments made into lasting memories, more events on the calendar, more harsh weather, more money out of the household budget, more time management and more stress.

It can be overwhelming and daunting to be this full. So, this time of year it’s especially important to take a look around and simplify. Get off Pinterest and do it all your way. Forget the formality of the holiday pictures you pictured, when your two-year-old is throwing a tantrum. Keep the breakable ornaments in the box for another season. Buy the pie instead of making it yourself. Shop online. Whatever you need to do, if it’s not fun it’s not worth it. "For the sake of tradition" isn’t a good enough reason to stress. I’ve learned some of these lessons through experience and I’m still learning.

My memories aren’t made of plastic toys or Christmas card photos. They’re snuggling together with a book in warm pjs. Decorating cookies without worrying if they’re picture perfect. Walking around the neighborhood looking at lights.

So this holiday season, take a load off. Enjoy the simplicity- the moments you’ll remember.

Sometimes Growing is Hard

In Arizona, the grass doesn’t just grow. It takes elaborate underground irrigation systems, timers, and a lot of effort. Every winter the grass goes dormant, but if we want to enjoy our best weather on our lawn we need to plant winter grass, which involves cutting everything down to the dirt and seeding, topsoiling, and watering until we start seeing some green about a week later. In the past, Drew and I have paid a landscaper to seed our winter grass, but this year we looked around and said, “how hard could it be?”

Turns out, very hard. Drew started working on the yard at 9am and I helped as much as I could. We took turns weed-wacking down to the dirt while he seeded and raked topsoil. It took 3 trips to Lowe’s, seven hours, and about $50 more than we’d have spent on a professional, but it’s done. Two weeks later, the grass looks amazing, and it’s not the only thing getting taller around here.

The boys are both growing so quickly that I’m clutching to my Costco card in shock! Just the other day, Big Bro had a waffle, fruit and two bowls of cereal for breakfast before asking for a snack on the way to school. They eat around the clock and Baby Bro has already outgrown the cute dinosaur shoes I bought them a month ago. While it’s great to watch them get bigger, growth spurts also come with irritability, sleep interruption, and even growing pains for Big Bro, who has woken up complaining about his legs.

The silver lining is that Baby Bro can now fit into his brother’s old Vans. When I brought those adorable shoes out of storage and got to see them run and jump through the house again it made me smile. I hope they fit him for at least a few months.

School's in Session

Just in case you’re wondering how school is going, Big Bro brought home a 3-day spelling homework exercise with vague instructions that I later figured out I’d completely misinterpreted. In the same week, I aced my first two marketing quizzes for grad school. So, that’s where I am in my life. Passing grad classes while failing kindergarten.

When I embarked on this master’s degree adventure, I didn’t quite calculate the step I’d be taking into my ever-changing role of mom, as my son started school at the same time. Kindergarten has changed. There are assignments and folders and notebooks to remember. A big part of being a parent is also being a teacher, but for some reason I didn’t picture myself sitting at the kitchen table supervising my son writing words that rhyme with “cat” quite so soon. All I remembered about my kindergarten experience was coloring and recess.

A lot of people compare weeknights to the “second shift” for parents who work full time. When I registered for online classes, I didn’t think of it as a third shift, but as soon as they started I realized what I’d done. I work, come home and we eat dinner, play for a bit or do bath time, make sure homework is done and stories are read and songs are sung. Then, I turn on my laptop and study. The next morning I pack snacks and water bottles, Drew takes the kids to school and we do it all over again.

Before we knew it, fall break had arrived. A cross-country trip packed with fun filled activities, lots of family and friends, and a wedding in Sedona may sound like a pretty busy “break,” but I wouldn’t have it any other way. At this point, busy is kind of my specialty.

The Death of Happy Spider

Back when Baby Bro wasn’t quite old enough to play, we heard endless tales of Happy Spider and his adventures. Big Bro’s spider showed up a couple years ago on a Sunday morning. Drew and I looked around nervously at first, before realizing that Happy Spider wasn’t the kind of spider that we could see, even though he was allegedly black with skinny legs and about the size of a 3-year-old’s hand.

Happy spider lived in the closet with his mom, dad, and baby brother. He was a pilot, a student, and for some reason he took a lot of vacations. Sometimes I overheard one-sided conversations with him while Big Bro played in his room. Sometimes he joined us on our outings. Sometimes when I asked about him, it turned out to be a silly thing to ask because of course he was off in San Diego, flying his plane.

I pictured Happy Spider with a tiny suitcase and maybe a pair of aviators. His house was real, we made it out of foam pieces and placed it on a shelf in the closet. He even had a tiny desk at my office, as my coworkers played along. I loved hearing all about Happy Spider, but I haven’t heard anything about him lately. In fact, he hasn’t been a topic of conversation for about six months.

I can only assume that Happy Spider, being a spider after all, met his fate after a long and exciting spider life. If it was a case of foul play, I would suspect Baby Bro. Happy Spider’s disappearance around the same time Baby Bro started to play independently with his older brother was no coincidence.

Either way, there seem to be no hard feelings of loss or grief at the absence of Happy Spider in our home. If anything, Drew is probably relieved.

I guess when it comes to playmates, not even an invisible spider can measure up to the love and friendship of a brother. Rest in Peace, Happy Spider. You're with Bing Bong now.

And a Half

Six months ago I had a preschooler and a toddler. Now, I have a kindergartner and a preschooler!

Baby Bro is now two and a half, and His Big Bro is five and a half. School started last week and I can’t believe how much they’ve grown and changed in just six months.

Big Bro went from training wheels to daredevil wheelies, from reading three letter words to finishing books, from simple LEGO structures to entire cities with imaginary storylines. He is a creative, confident, bright little boy with a sense of adventure and the kindest heart.

Baby Bro went from speaking in short sentences to complex conversations, from walking and running to dancing and jumping, from sweet smiles to soliciting laughs. He is an adorable, intelligent, curious little guy with a killer sense of humor and the sweetest disposition.

At 5 1/2, Big Bro loves soccer, school, cooking, pretend play, and much more. He wants to be a teacher when he grows up. He dislikes cleaning up his toys (although he loves doing dishes) and bedtime.

At 2 1/2, Baby Bro likes trains, planes, cars, music, poop jokes, and eating snacks. His big Bro is his hero. He dislikes naps, bugs, and baths that are too cold or too hot.

Mommy Day

Big Bro shows off his cooking class creation

I love my job for many reasons, but perhaps the most important is that it allows me to have a great work/life balance. With a four-day schedule, I’m off on Fridays, and ever since Big Bro was born we’ve referred to Friday as “Mommy Day.”

On Fridays, we wake up and have a leisurely breakfast. When the weather is nice, we go to a park or on a play date with friends, and when the weather’s too hot, we usually take advantage of our local rec center and its open gym and story time for ages five and under. The last couple summers, I’ve enrolled Big Bro in kids cooking class so he has something fun and age appropriate to do while Baby Bro and I hang out in the gym playing with push toys and balls. When class is done we play for a bit, eat lunch at the pizza place down the road and go home for Baby Bro’s nap.

Big Bro and I have been doing this since he learned to walk. There was a time we frequented the pizza place so much one of the servers knew us and our order, and always ended our meal by giving my little guy a lollipop he got to choose out of a jar.

Mommy Day is my favorite day of the week. But it’s about to change.

Today, we woke up and ate a leisurely breakfast. We went to the rec center and I dropped Big Bro at his last cooking class for the summer. Baby Bro and I played in the gym and then we all went to Geno’s for a slice. All the while I soaked it in, knowing next Friday won’t be the same.

Next Friday, I’ll drop Big Bro off at kindergarten. Baby Bro and I will find something to do until it’s time to pick him up again and go home for a nap. The rest of the day will be familiar, always ending in a bedtime story and a song for as long as he’ll let me. Right now, We’re reading Winnie the Pooh House on Pooh Corner, which ends with Christopher Robin starting school and leaving his fluff-filled friends behind.

I thought it was a timely and sweet story to start reading as summer came to an end, but now I can’t help but feel like that silly old bear.

Though it’s bittersweet, I guess the new Friday routine will have its perks. With Big Bro in school, I’ll get one-on-one time with Baby Bro that we’ve never really had before.

I can start to see the next phase of parenthood on the horizon. One where diapers and pull-ups are behind us. One where my kids can both play independently for hours but still want us around. One where we can go to sports games and theme parks and movies but still do bedtime and a song. And a story. For as long as they’ll let me.

The Bedtime Battle

Ask any parent about their biggest challenge and they’ll probably tell you it’s sleep. With a newborn you’re up around the clock and with sleep regressions every time a growth spurt comes along, it seems there will never be a light at the end of the tunnel, or in this case a nightlight at the end of the pillow.

Baby Bro has been our “good sleeper” from the beginning. His big brother would struggle to fall asleep so often I don’t know how much gas I wasted driving aimlessly around our neighborhood well into his toddler years to get him to doze off. Drew and I became so familiar with the classical music station we could hum along to Piano Concerto Number 2 in C Minor. Don’t act like you’ve never heard of it, it was top of the charts in the early 1900s.

But Baby Bro, he sleeps like a rock. He naps for hours and he hardly ever wakes up during a transfer. For those of you who aren’t parents of young kids, a transfer is when you take your sleeping child from their car seat to their crib, unbuckling and opening doors like you’re defusing a bomb. It takes a steady hand and the silence of a ninja.

Like many other things during the “terrible twos,” sleep has now become a battle. Drew and I have been on the front lines on and off for weeks. At first, it was a harmless and adorable, “I want to sleep in mommy daddy’s bed.” Cute, right? So cute, we let him right in. Slightly less cute after getting repeatedly kicked in the face by a sleeping and squirmy little boy for the next few hours. Thank God we upgraded to a king size bed this year because for the following few nights I found myself sleeping next to my husband, my dog, my toddler, his stuffed turtle, Waddles the penguin, and teddy.

That weekend, we decided to “refresh” his bed. We took the bars off his crib and turned it into a toddler bed, talking it up the whole time. He hopped right in and slept like a big boy! Patting ourselves on the back, we went to sleep soundly. For one night.

The drawback of the toddler bed is that it does not actually contain your toddler. And the drawback of a toddler is that they’re mobile, tall enough to reach the door handle, and smart enough to unlock it.

The following night, I decided to take a “he’ll sleep eventually” approach. I took him on a 25-minute jog, he stood outside of my shower, and then he sat down with me to watch a reality dance show. At 10:45 he was still wide awake and smiling the whole time. When I went to bed, he followed right behind. He sat wide awake, squirming around for I’m not sure how long because I fell asleep despite it all. Then, I woke up to the noise of our garage door.

It was Drew, muttering to himself and gathering tools to assemble the crib at 1:30am. Thirty minutes later, the toddler was contained.

We may have won that bedtime battle, but we have not yet won the war. If you need me, I'll be fueling up the car and humming a soothing piano concerto. At this point, I'll do whatever it takes.

Player 2

It finally happened. At five years old, Big Bro can officially pull his own weight in a video game. My player two has arrived.

This weekend, we sat down during little bro’s nap to play the new Yoshi game for the Nintendo Switch, and while on occasion he fumbled with his player facing the wrong direction or with which button was jump, for the most part he kept up. We played two levels and beat the first boss, and he was so excited he gave whole play-by-play re-cap, wide-eyed and animated, nearly falling out of his seat.

Afterwards, I did a few chores and he disappeared into the playroom. He re-emerged and grabbed my hand, leading me back to show me the “level” he’d created. I opened the playroom door and the entire floor was covered in meticulously placed Duplo blocks, cars, toy dinosaurs and more. It started on a white board where he’d drawn the entrance and buttons. There were trains, obstacles, secret compartments and bad guys. He could barely catch his breath as he explained each and every task, the premise, and the rules of the game. We played the real life level until his brother woke up. Then, we tried teaching him to play but he was more interested in pushing the trains. Or, as Big Bro phrased it, “totally ruining the game.”

I know it’s only a matter of time until Baby Bro stops “totally ruining” games and instead becomes his player 2. Some of my best memories were sitting on the playroom floor with my brothers, working together or against one another in a virtual world. That is, after I was old enough to realize when my older brother handed me a controller that wasn’t even plugged in.

To this day, I choose Luigi over Mario in Nintendo games. Player 2 has always held a special place in my heart. My new player 2 definitely does.

Look, We're All Exhausted.

This is my toddler in the middle of the floor at Target. He’s not even throwing a tantrum. No screaming, no kicking, he was cool and calculated as he bent down to the floor and rolled over to have a good rest. I turned around and saw him laying there. He was just done.

Some days I wish it were socially acceptable for a full-grown adult to do the same thing. For Arizonans, May means the end of the school year. As the mom of a preschooler, I’m slowly realizing that the end of the school year means tripling school activities, requesting parental presence in the middle of the workday, and oh- you need to squeeze in some time to generate a handmade craft or gift that shows you and your child’s appreciation. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. More seasoned moms are losing their minds baking treats for various end-of-the-year parties and toting all of their children to award ceremonies.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate, but do we have to cram this all into a two-week duration? Between the parent-teacher conference, preschool graduation, (because that’s a thing that actually requires more than paper hats now,) learning celebration, fundraisers, concerts, Mother’s Day celebrations, birthday parties, soccer games, and lining up summer plans, I could use a good lay down on the target floor.

I understand the school year’s end is a busy time for most, but we Arizonans have the unique added pressure of the impending doom that is our summer heat. Think of it like your worst winter storm, only instead of layering up and chattering your teeth out, we’re wrapping potholders around door handles and praying that our A.C unit can handle the pressure. It’s May and it’s a beautiful 80 degrees, but we all know what’s coming. So all the activities must get done before the thermometer hits 100. Or worse, 120.

I make lists, jot down calendars, set reminders on my phone, and live under the rule of digital assistants for a while as I hop from event, to work, to event and sneak in a grocery trip when I can, (we’ve got a few more boxes of mac and cheese in the pantry, that’ll hold them over for a day or two right?) and I look forward to that first 100-degree day, when I can curl up with a cold brew and a good book at the pool. When the tourists and half the residents have retreated to colder climates, and it’s quiet in the desert.

Splashing into Spring

Arizona weather always manages to throw me for a loop. Heck, it was 95 today but it’s only supposed to make it to 75 tomorrow. And I know that sounds like bragging, but when the difference between noon and dusk is 30 degrees, it can be difficult to pick out clothes in the morning. I’ve been bouncing between boots, tights, hoodies, tanks, tees and skirts for weeks, so when the heat index comes out and we make that switch to Spring, (which for most other states feels like summer,) I am thankful I at least know what to expect. And when it comes to my boys, I know where to go.

Splash pads are open and hours of entertainment ensue! Sunday, we had our first splash pad play date of the year at a new park and the bros played from 9am-12:30 getting soaked, sandy and sunny. After little bro’s nap, they were ready to do it all again, taking buckets to our sandbox and playing for two more hours before dinner. They did the same thing Monday and Tuesday.

It warms my heart to watch them create, imagine and play with nothing but sand and water. Those two basic earthly elements hold their attention three times as long as any screen, and I’m sure teach them much more. At the end of the day, they’re messy and so is the yard. Sand toys strewn about, along with tiny plastic farm animals in a makeshift creek or a kiddie pool serving as a large lake. Their shoes leak granules of sand for days. They’re exhausted, hungry, and happy.

Sunday evening, I cooked dinner next to an open window, listening to their banter as they narrated another scene, coordinating their efforts to wash the plastic pigs and cows. The warmth seeped in with the pink shades of another desert sunset. It’s such a simple thing, some water and sand. It’s such a simple thing, two children playing in the yard. I write it down because these are the simple moments I want to hold onto forever.

Potty Talk

Just days after Baby Bro’s second birthday, we embarked on a new adventure: potty-training! It was perfect timing. I had the flu, it was hailing outside and we had a long weekend. What better time to chase an underwear-clad toddler around the house, mopping messes every step of the way? I had nowhere else to be, and was in a perfect state to not leave the house for four days.

After that, it was time to start phase two: public places. Or as some like to call it- tour of public restrooms. Our first outing was his two-year checkup followed by a trip to the grocery store where I found myself sprinting behind a cart, yelling at other patrons as I slid toward the pharmacy section where they keep the mops, buckets and toilets. “Sorry!” I screamed with an ice-breaking smile as I nearly ran down an elderly woman holding a can of soup, “we’re potty-training!”

Once in the public restroom, the real show begins. Being a mom of boys, there are some aspects of potty-training that I just can’t seem to get a handle on. I’m lucky Big Bro learned the year iPhone came out with their first water-proof model. I had to rinse off that bad boy in a bathroom at the zoo after a detrimental misfire.

The crux of the issue is public restrooms are not built for tiny bodies. This being my second time around, I was patting myself on the back for thinking ahead and buying a foldable potty seat that fits in my backpack, making it easy to sit him on top of an adult-sized porcelain throne. I have to remove shoes and pants just to adjust him properly, which you can imagine has to be done with a great sense of urgency. I learned all of this during our second outing, where I found myself in a 2-square-foot stall in Barnes and Noble with a stroller and my toddler, trying to prop him on the stroller to stand and then sitting him down when that didn’t work, watching a stream of liquid shoot right over the toilet and onto our belongings.

A little trial and error, some under-the-breath curse words and a whole lot of wet wipes, and we’ve finally got it down to a science.

Baby Bro is just as excited as I am to be done with diapers.

Five and Two

Five years never happened so fast.

Big bro is smart, curious, funny, athletic, and the sweetest boy I know. He is reading at a kindergarten level though he doesn’t start kindergarten until the fall. He rides his two-wheeler with no training wheels and takes his scooter to skate parks. He loves to sing and dance, to play in his own imagination for hours on end, to run around outside with a soccer ball or dressed in a superhero costume, and he’s the best big brother anyone could ask for.

Little Bro is now two years old and is bright, silly, adventurous, lovable, and growing so fast. He can (and will) hold a conversation with anyone who will listen. He rides his tricycle even though he can’t yet reach the pedals. He loves playing on playgrounds, snuggling with mommy, telling poop jokes, and doing everything his big brother does.

These two boys are my every reason. Just when I think I have them all figured out, they blow me away with a new skill or an act of kindness, or a sideways smile and a punchline. Watching their relationship grow is something I never expected but brings me so much joy. Happy birthday to my boys. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings.

Digital Illiteracy

I was helping Big Bro write a birthday card when he asked me a simple question: “Can I watch you write it?”

Right then, I realized a pretty big revelation. My son is learning to read and write, but he has very little example to follow. He’s not learning to read and type. He sees me texting and typing and doing everything digitally from asking Alexa for a grocery list to sending email, to writing posts on this blog. I do it all on my phone or tablet or through talk features. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d picked up a pen.

As a child, I watched my mom write lists and notes and checks and address letters that she sent from a real mailbox. Children learn through imitation. From the way he sweeps the floor or throws a ball or dances in the living room, my son has subconsciously absorbed my mannerisms, my demeanor, my awesome moves. And yet I’ve overlooked one of the most important building blocks for education and expression, the very thing I’ve made a living doing. 

What's a Millennial parent to do? Ask Alexa to show my son how to write? That's ridiculous, she doesn't have arms.

I’m not about to let my preschooler down. So, if you know me personally, you can expect more hand-written notes, snail mail and maybe even a personal check. I’m taking it back, old school.

Deck the Halls... and the Bedroom and the Bathroom

The holiday season is hectic. Even though it happens every year, the pace and the plans and the lists all still seem to come as a surprise to me. We celebrate Halloween and I blink and I’m eating turkey and I blink again and it’s time to hang stockings, climb on a roof with a string of lights, and embark on a hefty home improvement project.

Isn’t that how you like to celebrate?

I guess I’m just a gluten for chaos, or maybe I forgot what it’s like to have a toddler, as my preschooler turns into a helpful, independent big boy.

On Black Friday I stood in Lowe’s with a 5-gallon bucket of paint and announced the disputed bedroom remodel brainstorm I had a few months ago would become a reality. Drew was less than thrilled.

Since then, we’ve been taping, tarping and painting between the hours of 8-10pm because I discovered it’s incredibly difficult and messy to sling rollers while a nearly two-year-old who has already decimated five Christmas ornaments is running around. That’s the toddler part I forgot about. 

One minute, I'm changing into my paint clothes and the next minute I'm finding that toddler had snuck into a paint-filled construction zone undiscovered, deciding to take "painting" into his own hands. Literally. Unfortunately, his fingerpaint masterpiece did not come out of his clothes. It's just a small dose of the level of destruction he's capable of.

I’ve un-decorated almost as much as I’ve decorated this season. Baby Bro has officially hit the dreaded boundary-testing phase. It doesn’t matter what it is, if it’s in his hand, he throws it. Especially if you tell him not to. After a handful of smashed ornaments and a plate full of decorative pine cones lobbed across my living room, I reluctantly got out the Christmas box and started putting things away.

With paper ornaments and a bucket of paint, I’m tackling this season head-on. And I’m hoping somewhere down the line Santa will bring my little guy a pitching scholarship to make up for it.

Despite the occasional destruction, these boys are definitely on the nice list.

Keeping Score is for Losers

Last night, I pulled into the last parking spot of the preschool lot, briskly walked through the gymnasium door and found my husband seated in the middle of a crowd, taking notes on a tablet during a presentation for parents of future kindergartners. A half hour late, I snuck in and sat down, glancing at the notes he'd taken for me. Teamwork makes the dream work.

I'd come straight from a work event as I often do if there's a parent-teacher conference or after school activity. I'm thankful to work in a flexible environment with a rockstar mom boss who gets it. But even all of that doesn't stop me from keeping score.

Mom Jess looks at her watch at the end of the day and stares down that career girl until she heads home. Mom Jess knows exactly how many weekend shoots I have lined up in the next three months. She judges me for volunteering, for overnight conferences, for nights out with the girls.

Career Jess rolls her eyes at Mom Jess when she turns down a freelance opportunity. She thinks it's totally lame when I want to be home in time to tuck everyone in. She judges me for wearing athletic-wear without actually fitting in a workout.

They're both exhausted.

But deep down, they know how great it is to share the same identity. It's a balancing act, yes, and it's a busy life. But when Mom Jess does the occasional preschool drop-off, she gets to strut in dressed like a boss without spitup on her shirt or a top knot. When Career Jess takes her kids with her on a shoot, they see how cool her job is and spend the whole night taking their own pretend pictures.

What Mom Jess and Career Jess need to remember is that they make each other better. Becoming a mom made me more responsible, patient, confident and pragmatic. Wearing a baby and a camera at the same time is not only adorable, but it's a sight that's perfectly normal that people need more of. Mom Jess and Career Jess need to cut each other some slack. Stop keeping score. 

If we get rid of the guilt, we can be awesome at both.

The High Price of Being a Girlmom

You might think that’s a typo in the headline. How can a boymom like myself know much about being a mom of girls? Let’s just say it’s pretty telling that even I noticed. It all started with a doll.

We’ve got about a thousand trucks and cars in the house, so naturally, the boys were spending their entire morning arguing over who got to play with the one and only doll we own. I got online to buy another, same exact doll with a different colored shirt so we could tell them apart. I saw the selection: doll with blue shirt that we already had- $25. Doll with yellow shirt- $15. Doll with pink shirt- $59.99. That’s not an exaggeration. The exact same doll from the exact same company in the exact same shirt in pink cost more than double the other options. Wow. Either there’s a real shortage of red dye or there’s something else going on.

I’d heard of the “pink tax” when it comes to things like women’s razors or clothing and other products, but when I stopped to really look at the merchandise aimed at children it was eye-opening. Pink tricycles, helmets, cars, board games, they’re all on toy store isles we only frequent when Big Bro wants to play with the Barbie cars. The price tags on the “pink” isles are definitely different, and when a third option for a toy is available, it’s the most economical. When shopping online, it's so easy to make a direct comparison that I'm surprised companies can still get away with charging triple for a product targeted towards a certain gender.

Most of the moms I know, myself included, try not to play into gender stereotypes when it comes to toys, clothing, activities or interests. I think that's part of the reason grey is such a popular color for baby clothing and nurseries nowadays. But man is it hard to combat the onslaught of marketing from the rest of the world.

So, to all my girl moms out there, I have one wish for you- that your daughter’s favorite color is yellow.

Why You Should Avoid the Hallway

When you become a parent, everyone tells you you’ll develop an unusual interest in poop, especially as a conversation topic. You’ll analyze the color, odor, and consistency of everything that comes out of your precious miracle’s rear end. What they don’t tell you is it doesn’t stop there. Poop will push its way into the center of attention in your household for years to come. Often times, the number one topic of conversation will be number two. And frankly, it stinks. Take it from me, I just finished washing poop out from between my toes.

It started with Baby Bro’s recent interest in the potty. He’s only 19 months old but when he started showing signs of potty training, I decided to get out Big Bro’s little potty to see what happened. He sat on it a couple of times and went in it once. After a few days, I asked if he wanted to go potty and he replied “yes,” but as soon as I took off his diaper I found it was already full. And as soon as I saw, he was already running down the hallway. I ran after him, but needless to say, I did not make a clean exit.

With potty-training ahead of us, I’m sure it will result in more defecation conversation dominating our household. But for now, I think I’ll keep changing diapers a little while longer.

A Very Merry Unbirthday

Today Baby Bro is one and a half, and just two days ago the big boy turned 4 1/2! Now for us adults, a trip halfway around the sun is no big deal but for a preschooler and a toddler it means a lot.

It means the difference between crawling and running. The difference between pointing and grunting, and using short sentences or following a set of instructions. It’s the difference between writing his name with a fist clenched around a pencil, and playing a game of scrabble (with assistance from mom of course.) It’s the difference between cautiously entering a preschool classroom, and strolling in with confidence for the start of a second year, showing around the younger students.

In the last six months these boys have grown inches and leaps in emotional and intellectual development. In the words of the all-knowing muppets from Sesame Street, they’re growing stronger, smarter and kinder. And we couldn’t be more proud.

At 4 1/2, big bro likes pretending, playing with friends, riding his scooter, cooking, singing and dancing. He dislikes not getting his way and having to wait. (Who doesn’t?)

At 18 months, baby bro likes imitating his older brother, snuggles, stories, playing with trains, singing and dancing. He dislikes things that are too heavy to pick up, and the cover of the Ice Age dvd. (Who doesn’t?)