My Little Helpers

If you know me, you know that I like to be efficient and get things crossed off my to do list as quickly as possible. More jobs are waiting to be completed and I am already thinking about my next project before I am even done with my first.

My husband and I learned long ago that we do not cook well together. He is one to measure sugar perfectly by leveling it off with a knife, actually sifting the flour if the recipe calls for it, and will not bat an eye when just about every dish in the kitchen is being used for said recipe. He is a great cook and the end result is always worth the...ahem..long wait.

I, on the other hand, try to hurry up and get the brownies in the oven so I can wash the dishes and put them away so the kitchen will look pretty again. I resist the urge to wipe up the flour on my countertops each time it spills, and the sight of all the ingredients sprawled out on every flat surface of my kitchen makes my blood pressure rise. (OCD much?!)

I am just really not one for messes.

But, Santa must have been listening when I told him that all I wanted for Christmas was a cleaning lady. He even sent 2! Their hours are 5am-7pm and are immediately at my beck and call if they see the need arise.

"Howp?!" In Owen and Aaron's language this means"help" and let me tell you it has become a favorite word around here, usually right as I am about to get down to some nitty gritty cleaning for the first time in 3 weeks. From doing laundry to washing dishes to vacuuming up Brady's fur to wiping off the food that is caked on our dining room walls, our to-do list is always a work in progress.  And each night, just as I open the fridge to gather some ingredients to throw together for dinner, I hear the tiny voices asking to help...and, as if they already know the answer, they push over the 2 booster-less dining room chairs so that they can hog stand at the counter with me to help.

I secretly cringe at the fact that my 30-minute meal will undoubtedly will now take a good hour.

But every time, my answer is the same. Yes, you can help. Deep down I know that not much gets done when my helpers are at my side. The floors will need to be swept again. I will have to re-wipe the windows down in all the places that were missed. And I will have to re-wash a load of laundry that just came out of the dryer because I couldn't bear to tell the boys to take the clothes out of the washer once I saw the proud looks on their faces when they knew that they had "helped" their mommy. 

In the end, it is not about how clean my house is or how quickly I can make a meal. It is about spending time with my little helpers. And for that, I will take all the help I can get. 

Now, can I get someone to help me pick up these toys?!

First Haircuts

It seems like we are running out of times we can say "their first _____." The token first smile, first steps, first teeth, and first holidays seem like eons ago and now we are just in the thick of living life with two very busy toddlers.

Maybe that is why I held off on Aaron's first haircut until just today, at 21 1/2 months old.  As I see my little babies becoming little boys right before my eyes, I find myself clinging to hold on to anything that will remind me of their tiny little bodies, of a time that has so quickly come and gone.

While Owen's first haircut was just as momentous of an occasion, and I was that mom in the Kids' Hair salon with my camera snapping a bazillion photos and probably getting in the way, I was so much more ready for it. It was the end of Summer, he was15 months old, and his hair was getting long. And while I held out until the last second and debated over it for weeks, it just seemed like the right time. (Seriously...do other moms linger over these events as much as I do?!)

But Aaron. He really has not had much hair until recently. It is fine and thin and wispy. But then there are curls. Right at the back of his neck. Sometimes just one. Sometimes more. The curls melt me and are probably the single reason that I held on this long.

The only problem was that these days the curls, more often than not, resembled a frizzy rat tail. The "bed head" was out of hand, and was present at times when he hadn't just gotten out of bed. And I say this this in the most endearing way, but every now and then those curls took on the look of an over-watered Chia Pet. It wasn't until I saw him with his crazy locks from across the room at ECFE class this past Tuesday night, that I finally came to terms with his need for a haircut.

He was so quiet and shy, but he sat in that big red chair like such a brave little boy. And again I got to be the sentimental mom snapping pictures of this momentous occasion. The stylist knew, without me saying a word, that I wanted to save those sweet little curls from his haircut. So she tucked them into a cute little souvenir baggie to remember this haircut. His first haircut. 

Aaron and his sweet, sweet curls.

Before His First Haircut

Little boy in a big red chair.

So brave.

Not so sure what just happened!

Aaron's first haircut. After.