And then we had kids...

When my husband and I first met, it was a head-over-heels romance that I had previously only dreamed of in my wildest dreams. It was the kind of love that I could tell made on-lookers want to puke in their mouths a little bit. We were ga-ga for each other. Our pastor who helped us prepare for our wedding told us that we scored the highest score of any couple he had worked with in his 20 years of ministry on the compatibility test that we had to take prior to our wedding. We were so happy and things were just so perfect; I am not exaggerating.

It was the kind of thing where I would follow along like a puppy dog while my husband went to the Home Depot and I hate shopping at the Home Depot. He would come with me to Joann Fabrics, just because we wanted to be together every second of every day. I don't think we ever had a disagreement, let alone a full-fledged fight in any of our dating or early years of marriage.

And then we had kids.

We learned early on in our post-kids marriage that nothing good comes out of conversations that occur at 2am (or 3am, or 4am...) whilst trying to calm, feed, and diaper-change a crying-baby or two. Our days of sitting on the couch staring into each other's eyes for hours on end were long gone. We learned to communicate with each other through shoulder shrugs and grunts and eye rolling because we were just so tired. ALL of the time.

Being first time parents to preemie twins has humbled our marriage. We are so NOT perfect. There are more days than I'd like to admit where I haven't been a very good wife. I have been short, I have been crabby. And despite some marriage advice we received in our wedding guest book, there are days when we have gone to bed upset with one another. I am not proud of those moments at all.

What I am proud of is that we have always, always managed to make things better when things aren't quite right. And our relationship always comes out stronger in the end. We are a work in progress. We have goals for ourselves and our family that we are constantly working towards; goals that keep us moving forward together as one.

In 5 years of marriage, I would be a liar if I said it has been easy. But I am not lying when I say things have become even better than they were before. Not only is this guy a fantastic husband, he is an amazing father. And there is nothing more precious seeing your man loving on your kids, not because he should, but because he wants to. He gets up before the crack of dawn to get into work so that he can be home with us as a family in the evenings. He puts up with my OCD ways of doing things and loves me for who I am (bless him!). He is my rock and my everything. And while things were much more simple before we had kids, I find that it is some of the hardships we have endured together that makes us come out a stronger team in the end.

Happy 5 years, and many, many more.

Snapped just after we got engaged, overlooking Lake Superior

Honeymoon in Cozumel

Just about melted when I looked out our kitchen window to see this scene.

First Day of Preschool.

Remember that time when your babies were babies and you looked at them and wondered if they would ever do anything other than eat and burp and poop and occasionally sleep? How it seemed like you would be changing diapers until they were teenagers and how you dreamed of sleeping through the night without any interruptions from your littles?

Yep. I remember.

But today, my babies went to preschool. Without me.

I had been debating whether or not to sign them up for preschool for a couple months. Since I am home with them in the summer, I didn't want to lose out on valuable time with them and honestly I worried that they would probably cry if I dropped them off at a new place.

But I signed them up. I tried my best to "prep" them for the new experience. We talked about how mommies and daddies do not go to preschool just little boys and girls. And that there would be really nice teachers there and that their names were Miss Joni and Miss Stephanie. And that if they had to go potty, they would have to ask their teacher. And yesterday, we walked up to their preschool to check the place out and see if maybe there would be a locker or a hook to put their new backpacks on.

There they were, right down at the end of the hallway, closest to their classroom. Two colorful little rainbows with the names "Owen" and "Aaron" written in marker on them, attached to the tiniest of lockers you have ever seen.

Gulp. I fought back my own tears as I excitedly pointed out their lockers and showed them how to open them. We tried to peek in the classroom and tried out the tiny toilets in the bathroom to give them that extra confidence they would need to do it on their own the next day.

Last night, I laid out their clothes and backpacks to be ready for their first day of preschool today.

They happily got dressed and ready to go (with a few minutes to spare for a few photos), and literally RAN towards their school, leaving me in the dust.

But as we got into the classroom, I could sense that the drop-off was not going to be easy, and I quickly tried to interest them in puzzles and trucks and stuffed animals. I knew I needed to make a quick exit and so I gave them hugs, reminded them that mommy would be back soon to pick them up, and turned and walked away to the sound of them crying.

It was not easy. I didn't look back. Miss Stephanie glanced at me as I walked out the door and said, "It's okay, they will do great."

And I pulled out of the parking lot wondering if I did the right thing. I felt bad for leaving them like that,but knew they would have fun once they were settled in.

I may or may not have returned to the school 45 minutes later to listen out in the hallway, to see if I could hear any crying.  I couldn't.

I may or may not have arrived 12 minutes early to pick them up, just in case they needed me.  They didn't.

And so, all of the parents waited outside in the hallway for their child's name to be called. I anxiously awaited my boys' names and out they ran with their papers and smiles. Smiles.

I was so proud.

Teacher Mommy, Summer Mommy

Today marked the last day of school and the end of my 12th year of teaching. As teachers, we think of years in terms of September through June with little landmarks along the way like MEA weekend, Winter Break, President's Day, etc. that help us gauge where we are at within the school year. 

I will be the first to admit that going back to work after having twins has been no easy task and there were many days where I struggled to hold everything together amongst the stress of life combined with the exhaustion that comes with raising very young children. How is it possible to be an amazing teacher while being an amazing mommy? While I am by no means an expert in this balancing act, this year has been, by far, the best year of work since the boys have been born.

A lot of factors contributed to this: an amazing daycare that we love and trust and is truly our boys' home away from home, and we have had much less sickness than years prior (read: less last-minute lesson plans, less missed days of work).

And well, things are just different than they were before--I'm not breastfeeding and sleep-deprived (well, not most days...Yes, we are STILL working on sleeping through the night), and I'm better about setting boundaries, and I have less guilt about following other passions of mine outside of being a mom.  

My boys are getting older and while they still follow me around the house like little ducklings, much to my dismay, they are needing me for less than they used to, which allows me the time to put my energy and thoughts into other areas and people in my life that have been neglected the past 3 years. 

So, cheers to a great school year! 

I'm looking forward to digging out my capris and tank tops and flip flops while I enjoy June-August spending time with my boys as Summer Mommy. 

<---Sept 2014















June 2015 -->