Sundays

Sunday can be a hard day. Making sure that lessons are done, kids are clean and dressed, and that we are ready seems to be simple in theory. In reality, this is the day that books will be misplaced, children will be uncooperative, and time will slip away. Tempers will fray, feelings will be hurt, and frustration will mount.
I love church. I love the music, the lessons, my primary class, and the way my heart feels when I am there. I think that we get especially tested on Sundays, because we know where we should be, and sometimes it is hard to get there.
Today was a day like that. A hard Sunday. The kids woke up too early, so they were over sensitive and contentious with each other. I had my lesson/ goodbye party/ birthday party to organize because so many of my class are moving away soon. And Mark was trying to help with all of it. Poor guy, stuck with crazy children and a crazy wife.
Once at church, things seemed to calm down. The spirit is an amazing gift. It put everything back in perspective.
Best moment of the day: when my son told me that his nursery teacher was his friend and that he was happy that he could see her today. We had a great deal of trouble getting Sam to go to nursery at first and be happy there. It brought tears to my eyes that he was excited to go and that he had a friend. Thanks Monet for being so wonderful to my child! Also, he also mentioned that his vacuum was his friend and that he wanted a baby sister like Lexi (Monet's daughter) just got. What a kid! I'm ok with the vacuum, and we'll have to wait a while on another sibling!

An apology and an explanation

I first started this blog as a way to get my thoughts out of my head for a while. I had just graduated from university, quit my job at the salon, and started a home business. And we were struggling with fertility. I called the blog "party of two, please" because I was scared that this was our lot in life; to be a couple desperately wanting children, but never able to maintain a pregnancy. Now, over 4 years later, and with 6 pregnancies and two beautiful sons, the title seemed like a misnomer. We were no longer a family of only two. I debated for months about changing the blog; coming up with a cute alliteration of our name, or a variation of a common phrase, but with a name like Kilistoff, not much can be done. I decided to leave it, and have it stand as a symbol of my husband and my commitment to each other and our unity. I feel like, after such a long absence, that I need to reintroduce myself and my family. Here are some, very honest, facts about me: 1) I am almost 30, and not dealing very well with it. 2) I am scared of large groups, especially of large groups of women,because I feel inadequate and unsure of myself. Consequently, I avoid these kind of get togethers if I can.but, I am working hard to change this. 3) I feel guilt constantly for working as much as I do, instead of being with my kids, but am selfishly pleased that I can support our family. 4) I will do or give anything for those I love. There is no request to big. 5) my mom is my hero. 6) My family is the center of my world. My brothers, parents, nieces, nephews, in-laws, are all individual and amazing. 7) my life started when Mark, my husband, came into it and made everything better. 8) I get sarcastic when I am nervous. 9) I love to learn. I get almost obsessive for awhile when I learn to do something new. 10) reading is both a passion and an escape for me. 11) I want to have my phD before I turn 40. Now my family: Mark is already 30 (haha!)He is quiet, supportive, loving, smart, funny, and every good thing. He loves games and movies, but struggles to stay awake while watching them. He is an amazing father. He is the favorite uncle and the best toy ever. The kids love to jump on him and drive cars over him. He has dreams for his future, and I want desperately for him to achieve them. He is my best friend. My sons are so cool. Sam is almost three. He loves to clean, fix things, and copy Mark. He is a auburn-haired bundle of energy. He loves his family and tells us every day. He can read The Hungry Caterpillar. He loves to share with Charlie, especially food. He will be eating his breakfast (his favorite is granola with yogurt) and for every bite he takes, he will feed one to Charlie. Charlie is almost a year and a half. He is happy and has a huge smile for everyone. He wants to do everything that Sam does. He loves to climb, often without thinking about how he will get down. He is chatty and still likes to cuddle. He is a momma's boy. His platinum hair is soft and straight. He is clumsy. That is us, in a nutshell. Hopefully, I will do a better job keeping it updated. Sorry for the absence.

My lil' pooper!

Warning: the post contains references of bodily functions, including, but not limited to, those of a " number 2" variety. Don't read if you still have the illusions that your own child will not perform similar activities.

Sam is two. He is curious, but I always bragged to my friends that he had never done anything gross like digging in his diaper, taking off his clothes, or even taking off the diaper itself. Oh how I wish that I could go back in time and be more supportive when my friends complained. Maybe then they wouldn't have laughed when I told them what he does now.

We have been encouraging Sam to be more independent, mainly to make our own lives easier. So when we would got to the pool, we would tell him to take his own swim trunks off, or before a bath, to start stripping down. This innocent instruction took a hideous turn when I went in to get him after a nap and he was standing there, one arm through the neck of his shirt, no socks, pants, or diaper, looking so pleased at his efforts.

I did a thorough search of his bedding and found that, while he was pantless, nothing else icky had occurred. I breathed a sigh of relief, gave a quick lecture on why mommy and daddy were the only ones who should take off diapers, and thought that was the end of it.

It wasn't. This was the beginning of several weeks of sporadick partial nakedness. Often, we weren't lucky enough to survive unscathed, and I would be washing bedding, pillows, and even the occasional stuffed animal that had been watered, shall we say! But still I was ok, because nothing " else" had happened.

Then it did. One Sunday morning (why is it always Sunday?!) Sam was being a pill, Charlie was being a pill, I'm sure that Mark and I were pills too. I had already washed Sam's bedding, and poor Charlie's stuffed cat, once that morning due to a semi naked child found upon waking that morning. When the bad behavior landed him back in bed for a nap, he took things into his own hands, quite literally! I was feeding Charlie when Mark went in there to tell Sam to lie down and sleep, when Mark frantically called for help. I put a startled and still hungry Charlie down and ran into the bedroom. There was my boy, arms outstretched, naked, hands full of poop.

Sigh, innocence lost, paradigms shifted, worlds collapsing.

Picture, if you will, Charlie screaming with hunger, Sam crying and saying ewww at the top of his lungs, Mark trying not to hurl, and me, stuck firmly in the middle of the chaos, wondering what to do first. We cleaned off  Sam's hands, then Mark took him to the shower to hose off, I stripped the bed, again! Then threw it in the laundry and remade his bed. I fed Charlie, put him to bed. Then I texted my friend and had her teach my Sunday school lesson.

We duct-taped Sam into his diaper and put him to bed.

I will admit to feeling slightly smug when we went in to collect him after his nap and his pants were off, but his diaper was still firmly attached. You know you needed a win, when you celebrate one upping your two year old.We did not make it to church that day. By this point it was time to change back into pajama pants and hibernate. I had had enough.

A Fresh Start

So, I can't really believe that it has been this long since I bothered to make a post. Sorry. I swear that I didn't fall off the face of the earth, I just took a hiatus that went on a lot longer than I anticipated.
A great deal has happened since my last post. Mr. Sam is two now. He is a smart, precocious bundle of energy. He gets into everything, especially if it is dangerous, if he is left alone for any amount of time. He has beautiful red hair and bright blue eyes and gorgeous dimples that come out when he smiles or is about to do something bad. I love him so much. I was so worried that I would spoil him rotten, simply because he was our first baby that we got to take home, and we totally do! Oh well, c'est la vie!

We have another addition, an eight month old bundle of happiness named Charlie. He is such a treasure. After months of colic, long hours of walking and rocking and contemplating his imminent sale (it was touch and go there for awhile), he woke up happy one day, and has never stopped. We love this smiley talkative little dude. He has been pretty much bald from a month old, but he is starting to get white blond fuzz all over his head and the same bright blue eyes as Sam. I like to think that with both of the boys having the same eye colour, that Eric would have had that colour eyes too.

Mark is still in school. He now has both a biochemistry degree and an education degree. His heart's desire is to be a dentist though, so I guess we will have to deal with a few more years of the student life.

I continue to work full time and support the family the best I can working from home. I've been so fortunate in being able to have my kids and still work. I get a great deal of help from Mark and my mom, for which I am endlessly grateful.

We continue to live life as best we can, being the best people that we know how to be. Some days we are successful, other days we are not.

I'm going to try to do better updating this time.

Under Pressure

Sam is almost 1 now, and there has been one little thing that I have been hanging on to. His hair! I love Sam's hair. It is a beautiful strawberry blond with just enough curl to be awesome. It was also really long. Like ridiculously long. But I loved it and couldn't bring myself to cut it. It was driving Mark crazy and he would bring it up all of the time to my clients, but they always took my side (who is going to disagree when there is a chick with scissors near their head).

And then, something horrible happened. My client agreed with Mark. His resulting happy dance was enough to prod me into action. So, with a heavy heart, I told Mark that I would cut Sam's hair.

Saturday began like any other day. Little did I know that one simple act would change everything. In between clients I strapped my poor, unsuspecting child into his high chair, sprayed down his hair and began what was an extremely traumatic experience, for ME.

It took only minutes, but I was changed forever. I was no longer the mother of a baby boy. I had somehow morphed into the parent of a grown child. His features looked completely different. Not so babyish. Possibly because you could finally see his face without all of the hair in the way.

Anyway, we somehow survived the first haircut. Sam was a champ; completely unfazed by the whole thing. I guess he has seen the whole process a few times by now! I didn't cry, much. Mark is extremely happy. A good time was had by some.

Before

During

After

What Goes in, Must Come Out! Right?!

Back in November, I decided to try out a new hair colour line. I always try them on myself first, just to make sure that nothing bad happens. Boy, was I ever glad that I did. I used, what the company termed, a chocolate brown. It was a level 4 (1 is black, 10 is blond), so we are looking at a medium dark brown with some reddish, golden undertones. That is what should have happened. It didn't. Instead I got a really, really dark (almost black) colour with PURPLE undertones. It wasn't so bad, because it was underneath. It has been several months now, and I am really grossed out by the colour that this has faded to. It is a nasty purpley/brown mess. So I went to my friend Tracy and we decided that we would try to lift some of it out with highlights (I also have a piece in my bangs). Well, my hair is probably the easiest in the world to highlight. With very little work, it goes to a great light blond. After 1 1/2 hours sitting with the lightener on my hair, I had a lovely shade of dark pink. The bang piece was even worse. It went to a pinky/red. I couldn't believe it! So today I tried again to lift out just the bang piece. I used the strongest stuff that I have and left it on for almost 2 hours. I now have a lovely pastel pink bang. Not Impressed. I have never come across a colour like this! I need to give my hair a little break just so that I don't end up with no hair from over processing. No laughing! It's not funny. OK, it is, but not today. Maybe tomorrow.

Before I forget...

Happy Birthday Mark! It was Mark's birthday on Sunday. He turned 28. We went to church, had a restful afternoon, and then went to his parent's house for birthday supper. Mark's parent's made a wonderful prime rib supper for the family and then I made him a lemon cake for dessert. It was all great. On Monday we celebrated as a family. I made Mark's favourite meal and then I made lemon meringue and pumpkin pie for dessert. I guess that I can't really call it a family meal; Sam was already in bed. We watched a movie together and then the old man went to bed. I love you baby, here's to an eternity more!