Being Sara

I like to sleep.  I sleep pretty well when I don’t have small children climbing into my bed in the middle of the night.  I also like to eat foods that my kids don’t yet find appetizing.  I like to go out to dinner and a movie with my husband.  I like to close the door to the bathroom and keep it closed the whole time I’m in there.  I like it when my house stays picked up for more than an evening.  Sometimes I miss the days of sleeping in and eating what I wanted and the freedom to do things on my own schedule.  Sometimes I look forward to the days when my children will be self sufficient.  When they will be old enough to stay home alone, or to the days after they have moved out of our house and I find free time again.

The other day I told Xander when he was older he wouldn’t want to hang out with me, he’d choose to hang out with his friends instead.  Xander giggled, smiled and told me he’d always want to spend time with me because he loves me (duh Mom).

And then, things like this happen.  And last night when Xander crawled into my bed at 11:30pm saying he’d had a bad dream, I didn’t send him back to his bed.  I wrapped my arms around him and held him for the rest of the night.

When I drag my exhausted body out of bed at 5am so I’ll have enough time to make lunches and breakfasts and find clothes for everyone it feels like these days will never end, but I remember that soon enough I’ll be trying to drag my boys out of bed and frowning at the piles of smelly laundry on their floors.  I will think back to all of those nights where I held a sleeping child in my arms and miss the days that I sacrificed sleep or privacy or sanity for my babies.

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Just in case anyone reading this isn’t already aware, we celebrate Parker’s half birthdays.  He was born at the end of December, and it’s not a great time for anyone to get together to celebrate a birthday when we’re all busy celebrating Christmas and New Year’s.  We decided before his first birthday that we would acknowledge the day with a brunch for family, but not celebrate with a party or presents until the summer.  It’s worked out well.  Parker gets his special day, and he isn’t sad about it being in the summer instead of winter.  We kind of like kicking off the summer with Parker’s party and then ending it with Xander’s party.  This year Parker’s wasn’t really at the start of the summer, but we’ll get back into the swing of things next year.

So, we celebrated.  Lots of people came and it was a great afternoon.  Pretty hot, but not bad in the shade.  Parker got his cake (which was really his primary focus for the day) and wound up with some really fun toys.  He is finally getting to an age where he has friends that he likes to play with, and a few of them came – it was great to see him playing so well with them.  Making this little boy happy was totally worth the 7+ hours of cleaning I did along with the 4-ish hours we drove to have a free day to clean, plus all of the hours in the hot sun Zach spent working in the yard.  We always say parties are a good excuse to make sure your house is really clean…

He is a stereotypical two year old, fiercely independent one minute, and desperate to cling to my leg the next.  His speech is getting better and better by the day, and the things he says are so freaking cute, most people can’t help but mimic everything he says – we’re guilty of it too, but if I were him, I’d be sick of people copying me by now…  Just recently he’s been in to ‘singing’ his A,B,C’s but can only do it if he’s watching someone and mimicking them (oh, the irony).  He can count to 16, but won’t do it anytime we want to show off his new skill of course.  He tries his hardest to keep up with his older brother and manages to succeed most of the time.  His imagination is phenomenal and he can play make believe with his brother for lengthy periods of time.  I am still the favorite, but sometimes Dad can kiss a boo-boo.  And he melts my heart every day when he calls out ‘I love you Mommy’ as I’m walking out the door.  He doesn’t always make it easy, but I’m still head over heels in love with this little guy.

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Six years ago today I woke up with butterflies in my stomach.  I took my time showering and put on a shirt that buttoned down the front.  My mom cooked me breakfast, and then drove me to visit the hair stylist in town.  I spent a few hours there with five of my closest female friends along with a few family members and then returned to my house with my hair piled into big curls (my neck was sore for the rest of the day with all that hair up there!) and a tiara firmly affixed to the top of my head.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long wait, a limo arrived at my door and took us to a church.  It started to sprinkle on the way, and everyone said “oh, it’s good luck when it rains on your big day!” To which I responded “that’s just what people tell the bride to make her feel better.”  Luckily the sprinkles abated quickly and didn’t return.  In the basement of the church I pulled on my gown, only to realize that the seamstress had forgotten to sew the eye hook back onto the top of the zipper when she took the gown in months ago.  After a few minutes of panic, a family friend swept in and saved the day with a new eye hook and a few quick stitches.

Once everyone was ready, we moved upstairs to have endless rounds of pictures taken before the guests arrived.  Then I waited (again for what felt like a ridiculously long amount of time).  Finally, it was my turn to walk down the aisle.  It was the moment that every little girl waits for.  With music playing and 100+ of our closest friends and family standing, watching and waiting, I emerged in my beautiful white gown with my tiara and veil and bouquet.

Even though he had helped me pick out the dress, and even though he had rolled his eyes at my silly girly desire to try the dress on again and again, and even though we had just had a zillion pictures taken mere minutes before, his eyes welled up at the sight of me walking down the aisle.  That’s how I knew I was doing the right thing.  That’s when I knew that this would be forever and that I had no reason at all to ever wonder or doubt his love for me or mine for him.

I quickly stuck my tongue out at him and the his smile dried his eyes (and mine – wouldn’t want that makeup to get all runny!)  The ceremony was short, but sweet and perfect.  After a brief receiving line, we filed back into limos and drank champagne on our way to a country club for a most wonderful reception.  The evening was filled with laughter, light, dancing, drinks, food, family, friends and the number 13 (inside joke…)

It’s been six wonderful years today, and I wouldn’t change even a single day.  I got lucky enough to find the guy who gets every single dorky movie or tv reference I make (often because I’ve made him sit through yet another romantic comedy).  The guy who changes at least as many diapers as I do.  The guy who sits with his 3 year old son and patiently rubs his back until the little guy falls asleep.  The guy who lets me sleep in on an occasional weekend morning (after some negotiation for his own sleep in morning).  The guy who still calls me beautiful.  The guy who dances silly dances in our kitchen just to make me or the kids laugh.  The guy who actually enjoys cooking on occasion.  The guy who buys me bouquets of flowers even though he thinks that buying flowers that are just going to die in a week is silly.  The guy who puts up with all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies.  The guy who loves my children with every fiber of his being.  The guy who shares quiet smiles with me when those children do something unbearably cute. I found the guy who loves me.

We’ve been married for six years today (and together for almost 11) and it’s been an excellent journey so far.  I can’t wait to find out what the next six years bring!

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