It’s taken me AGES to sort myself out.  AGES to realize that if I don’t go to the store and get milk, no one is going to.  If I don’t do my laundry, no one is going to.  If I don’t make dinner, no one is going to.

Somehow, in four short weeks at my parents’ house, I had quite forgotten how to be an adult.

I always do that- revert to being a 12 year old who leaves all her junk lying around, never cleans up after herself (or her kids now…), never goes grocery shopping, cooks, or is of any use to anyone.  It’s just that NORMALLY as soon as I set foot back in my own home, I immediately age 16 years and BAM!  Instant adult!

But this time…

I’ve found myself running on empty, unable to complete the simplest of tasks.  And that meant the extras- namely taking pictures of my children- had totally gone out the window.

This weekend, though, I’d had enough.

Enough of a filthy house.  Enough of an empty fridge.  Enough of no photos of the kids.

I’m now 6-7 loads of laundry into the pile.  Plenty to go, but at least it all fits in the hamper now.

I’ve got most of the house cleaned- just need the bathroom and kitchen to have a good scrub.

I baked three things from Sneaky Chef cookbook which can be frozen and shoved in the diaper bag on the go, so at least my kids won’t starve.  And I haven’t run out of milk yet this week.

And photos.  The photos.

I broke out the camera on Saturday for a mini session at the park.

Hopefully another week or so and I’ll finally feel like myself.  Hopefully…

This means that I don’t really like posed portraits.  I like following kids (mine or others’) around and documenting what they do.  Or at least making it look like that…

Because the truth is that just following a kid around, hoping they’ll (a) do something cute (b) while staying still enough for my camera to focus is really leaving too much to chance.  I’m hired to make kids look great on camera.  And while blurry photos CAN be super cute, it’s best if they’re not ALL blurry.

And so.

Here’s what I do.

I confine them.

You’ll notice a lot of photos of my kids are when they’re CONFINED by objects.  Since I photograph them when I don’t have anyone else to help confine them, I use high chairs (eating, drawing, being cute) or the crib or the bathtub.

I’ll put Henry down with something that will keep him occupied for half a second.

If there’s an adult on hand, I’ll use them.

I’ll go with the standard “Quick!  Pick ‘em up and hold ‘em!”

And book reading is nice.

Snuggling on couches or beds.

All of these things pretty much guarantee lovely, in-focus photos.

I’ll tell you what DO NOT guarantee lovely, in-focus photos.  Balls.  Swings.  Slides.  Wild games of tag.  I would say that out of 100 photos I’ll take of any of these activities, 3-4 are good enough to share.

Again, I’m not discounting photos of crazy movement.  Not every photo needs to be focused.  But if you want SOME that are, it’s all about confinement.

Sometimes Henry likes it, sometimes he doesn’t.

But Benjy always thinks it’s a riot.

I started panicking about July back in, like, April- back when I realized how difficult it was going to be to keep two kids entertained all day long.  Two kids on two different nap schedules.  Two kids- one of whom is used to running around with a ton of other two year olds for HOURS and will now be stuck at home, with boring old Mama, while she putters around the house trying to make sense of the madness and mayhem caused by two kids at home all. day. long.

The first thing I did, though, was notice that I’m a better mother when I’ve left the house- and the distractions that the house provides.  If we’re at the park, I can’t clean up the breakfast dishes.  I can’t hang laundry.  I can’t write a blog.  I can’t check Facebook (okay, I CAN thanks to mobile internet, but it’s much less time consuming).

So, I put this realization into practice.  We leave the house everyday.  Rain or shine.  Right after Henry’s first nap, and right after their afternoon naps.  We leave.  We go to the park, the zoo, the mall, the store, the library, the city, the swimming pool, a friend’s house- OUT.

But the big problem is that Henry takes a nap smack in the middle of the morning.  And not his in stroller.  Ohhhhhh no.  That’d be too easy.  This means Benjy and I are stuck together- at home- all morning- and we have to be quiet.

Remember all those distractions I mentioned earlier?  Dishes, laundry, my computer, general mayhem and chaos?  Yeah… it was nearly impossible to resist.

WAS.

Because now I’m reformed.  Or, rather, now I understand fully the consequences of trying to get something done around the house while your toddler is bored out of his skull.  I won’t go into specifics, but it involves a lot of shouting (on his part- I keep eerily calm for the most part- at worst, I’m exasperated) and many trips to the naughty step.

And so, I’ve learned that I need to leave the mess.  I need to leave the chaos that surrounds me for another time.  Because right now THIS INSTANT  I need to sit down and paint with my son and all will be right with the world.

FYI- finger painting is just as cathartic as sand castle building and playing in water.  Very fun and very good for one’s nerves.

I don’t know.  But it’s gorgeous.

HOWEVER.  It’s not that I’m saying cherries will stage a coup d’état, overthrowing the juicy watermelon, stripping it of its title, glorly, and unending, oppressive reign.  But I AM saying that cherries will keep King Watermelon on its toes, he’ll be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the end to draw near.

Bwa ha ha.

His personality is really starting to show now.  And, let me tell you, it’s pretty demanding.

He screams like he’s being pummeled to death if he drops a toy and you don’t pick it up.  He screams like the boogeyman himself is in the room if he hears someone talk on speakerphone or through the baby monitor.  He’s terrified of being thrown up into the air.  He cries and whines and fusses A LOT.  He hates his bath.  He hates swimming.  He’s on the move all the time.  ALL the time.  ALL THE TIME.

He is also currently teething, so the crying, whining, and tantrums might be due to the four sharp objects making their way through his upper gums.

These are the same teeth we’ve been waiting on for the past TWO MONTHS in case you’re wondering.  3/4 have poked their way through, however, so there’s hope this nightmare will end and we can have happy Henry back.  The good thing about teething is it’s made him rediscover his tongue, and so he’s caught making that face quite often.  And, really, it’s very cute.

He’s mastered his little Fred Flinstone car and, consequently, is terribly uninterested in crawling or sitting.  Both are so blase compared to the thrill of WALKING!

He’s still cross-eyed, and I’m confident he’ll still be cross-eyed at the one year mark, when neuvola will refer us to a doctor.  Nevermind, it’s not life and death surgery, so we’ll weather that storm just fine.

His circle of dietary delights has widened to include bread and cheese, including a variety of jarred foods (I know there are plenty of moms out there who are capable of preparing their baby’s foods from actual veggies and meats and hats off to you- I’m just thankful to all the wonderful chefs at Hipp).  He’s really a good eater- and I’ve learned from dealing with Benjy that if he doesn’t want to eat, give up and try again later.  No use in battling it out, or you’ll end up with another kid who refuses to eat anything at any time.

Tune in next month when I show you a picture of those four blasted teeth and a baby who is 1 month nearer to his first birthday!

He already knows how to talk on the phone:

How to suck it up when he’s hurt:

He can potty train his doll with the best of ‘em.

And he’s simply a whiz at breastfeeding.

*Sigh* Here’s hoping he finds someone who is even half as capable as he is to birth and nurture a child.  Fingers crossed!

In fact, it made me stop and slow down a bit.  Look at my surroundings.  Check out the airport, check out the airplane, check out my passport.

Ahh, my passport.

My own little travel diary.

As I was standing there, waiting for my baggage, I started flipping through.

Here’s the stamp I got my first summer in Europe, when we decided it would be a good idea to spend the night in the train.  It was, in fact, NOT a good idea.  My camera and CD player were stolen, and passport controllers woke us up every few hours, so none in our trio slept.  The consequence was a grumpy group of girls who got in a heated “disagreement” for a few hours…

And here’s the stamp I got when I arrived at London Stansted and nearly got kicked out of the country for improper Visa status.  I was crying so hard the woman at passport control had to fetch me a tissue.

And then the residence permit where they spelled my name wrong, which forced me to queue at the foreign police ALL OVER AGAIN.  Did I mention this was when Benjy was two weeks old and I could barely function, much less make it down to the foreign police to sit in uncomfortable plastic chairs nursing my kid?  Awesome.

And then my most recent stamps- the stamps that will remind me of my first week of freedom.  A few precious days of sleeping in, catching up with good friends (I literally went hoarse from talking so much), shopping, walking, eating, and peeing in peace.

And best of all the chance to miss my kids.  The reminder that I love them more and more each day.

London was great, but there’s no place like home.

And that’s just fine, because he’s going to get a break.  A four day break.  FOUR WHOLE DAYS.  Because this girl is leaving for London!!  Wa-hoo!!

Taco Bell, Starbuck’s, the English language, fabulous shopping (within reason, of course…), lots of friends, multiple nights of complete sleep, time for reading, and time for sitting in absolute silence doing nothing!

I know I’ll miss my kids.  I know I will.  Especially now that Henry is really starting to get excited about me.  But it’s only four days.  Four short days.

Four short days until my life will once again be ruled by beasts less than three years of age.

Nevermind.  I’ll make the most of it!