So You Want Another Dog, Huh?

One day I was just sitting around – you know, with my 3 kids, a dog, house full of laundry and hectic schedule – and thought to myself, we need another puppy. Yeah, that would be a great idea! We have time. Who needs a clean house anyway? And I love chewed up shoes and scooping poop. It will be great for the kids to learn responsibility and help feed and walk the dogs. Yeah, great idea Taylor. One of your best, I have to say.

Well that isn’t EXACTLY how this all started.

It actually started about two years ago when Bryson started begging for a big dog. He met my aunt and uncle’s dog Tilly and wanted one just like him. He wanted a puppy to sleep in his bed and play fetch, and he promised he would help us take care of him. Jamey, of course, was all on board, but it took a while to convince me. I wanted to wait as long as possible. First of all, dog hair makes me cringe and I didn’t want it all over my house. Plus, I wasn’t sure about the baby with a bigger dog around, and I if I’m being completely honest, I just didn’t want another dog. Our sweet, quiet, non-shedding yorkie was enough for me!

But Jamey has this way of asking for things over and over and over (and over) and I finally I just cave and tell him to go buy it. It is how he’s gotten most of his boy toys, like a big tv, a grill, his umpteenth pair of tennis shoes – I mean the list could go on forever. But I feel like two years was a pretty good length of time for me before I gave in, and once I told him I would think about it, he spent hours searching for the perfect puppy for us. He would send me pictures, I would ignore them. It was a great plan and I got about six more months out of the stall!

And then it happened. One of the pictures pulled at my heart a little more than the others. His name was Prince and he was a hound dog mix, and he had the sweetest face ever. So I caved. (I am such a sucker.) Bryson and Jamey went to the shelter, and after deciding he was the perfect fit for us, they came home with the cutest little puppy!

That was the day our “simple” little life got a little more chaotic. Prince came in our home and instantly stole our hearts. He soon got a new name, Buster, so he could fit in with the rest of the “B” kids. He and our little dog, Bentley, became instant friends and he was the most easy-going dog I have ever seen. Even though he wasn’t a big dog, Buster was everything Bryson had ever wanted. He plays fetch, he sleeps in his bed, he follows Bryson wherever he goes, and he waits by the door for him to get home from school. It is a bond I have loved to watch grow.

So now this sweet little guy isn’t so little anymore, and can destroy a backyard in a matter of minutes. He is a lover of digging, chewing, howling, and stuffed animals. He can reach the counter so we learned not to leave any food out. He is currently shedding his winter coat for summer, so I had to buy a new vacuum to get the dog hair under control. He spends most of his time inside on the top cushion of my favorite chair (now covered in a blanket.) and Jamey and Bryson are down about three shoes each. One day they’ll learn not to leave them out. And rainy days? Don’t get me started. The mud, the wet paws, the wet dog smell, oh my gosh!!!! I can’t even.

But as crazy as Buster has made my life, he has truly been one of the best ideas Jamey and Bryson have had. I hate sweeping, mopping and vacuuming, but I can’t remember what it was like around here without his energy, and he gives the best kisses, which makes it all worth it. He lets Brynlee annoy him to no end. He lets her poke his eyes, pull his ears and drag him all around the house. He lets Brystol read stories to him, jumps on the trampoline with Bryson, and he has the cutest howling bark I have ever heard (I’m sure our neighbors would disagree.) 

I think it’s safe to say, Buster has completed our family. There will be no more additions of any kind. I don’t think I can be in charge of feeding or cleaning up after anyone else!! It is only noon and I have already swept twice today. They’re all lucky they’re cute!

Okay so I’m Not Qualified to be a Room Mom

Room Mom. It is a title that is taken very seriously around these parts. It’s a title that I learned very early on in parenthood I could not do justice. In fact, it gives me anxiety to even type that phrase so many times.

It all started when Bryson was 3. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was close to Thanksgiving Day and his first party at his new daycare. There was a signup sheet on the door for things like cookies, plates, chips, etc. Plates and napkins are always my go to, but those were already taken, so I hesitantly wrote my name next to sugar cookies. I went to Target on the way to school that morning (I’m not one to plan ahead on those things.) and grab the cutest brown and orange cookies I could find. (Who am I kidding? I bought the first ones I saw on the end cap at the aisle. I had two toddlers and I was in a hurry.)

As I walk my sweet 3 year old to class, I proudly display the cookies in the store-bought container. We walk in to see another mom unloading her stuff. Then she pulls it out, a huge box from the local bakery. What is inside you ask? BIG HUGE BEAUTIFUL TURKEY COOKIES. They were 3D and they looked like an actual turkey. She proudly exclaimed, “I didn’t sign up for cookies but couldn’t pass up having these made! Aren’t they great?” Well of course they were great - duh. I quietly set my puny store-bought cookies on the counter and made a quick exit.

It was that moment as I quietly walked myself down the hall hoping no one would notice me that I came to the harsh realization – I would never be that mom.

So as a mom of kids who are now in PreK and Kindergarten, the opportunity to be room mom has presented itself more than once. I am always that mom who says, “I will help with anything but I don’t think I should be in charge.” In this world of Pinterest, there’s a lot of pressure to be “adorable.” The crafts. The decorations. The perfectly themed food. It is too much. I can’t even take it. So I always kindly decline the role and just show up to help the perfectly crafty and well-put-together room mom on party day with whatever mindless job she can give me. My method has worked great so far. I made it through Bryson being in PreK and most of kindergarten and have gotten Brystol through more than halfway through PreK.

Until now.

Brystol’s teacher informed me that the room mom would be on vacation during her “I Love Jesus” party and asked if I would be in charge. I kindly accepted with a smile that I hope was totally covering up my fear – fear of letting down these precious 4-year-olds. The room mom was in charge of decorations and crafts. I’m sure most of you are thinking, okay no big deal. Well it was. I am a disaster when it comes to things like this. Seriously.

So I procrastinate, trying to pretend it isn’t actually going to happen. But it was. The day before the party I load up the girls and we head to Hobby Lobby. We get the only premade centerpieces I could find. They were awful, but I of course had waited so long it was my only option. I did buy some confetti. Confetti makes everything better, right? Then we head to Target, I have this great idea to make “robots” made out of juice boxes and such. I mean I saw it on Pinterest under Easy Kids Valentine Ideas. So we buy everything and head home.

After about six major glue gun burns I have finally made these robots. They were adorable. Pudding heads, juice box bodies, arms made from Smarties, and chocolate feet. Brystol was so excited that she and I created such amazing things! (Clearly she isn’t used to her mom busting out the crafts!) I carefully load up these six robots into a box, along with the Valentine craft that one of my girlfriends gave me, and my pitiful decorations.

We pull up at school and I notice the robots were falling apart. Literally everything was coming apart. No feet, and only half of them had heads. It was a disaster. Brystol burst into tears as I told her what happened. So here I am now with three red table clothes, three red table decorations, and some confetti. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I should’ve told her Brystol was going to be sick. But I sucked it up and we went into class.

I set everything up. We played a game, ate, and did the craft, and within the first few minutes of the party my anxiety was gone. There was nothing I could do now; it was as good as it was going to be. And the kids didn’t even notice the other classrooms were decorated way cooler than theirs. They had a blast with their friends, giving each other their Valentines and playing sweetheart bingo. Brystol and I took lots of pictures and she loved every minute of it.

I learned a lot this week. I learned that I am way too OCD to let kids do crafts. I learned I am a serious over thinker when it comes to things like Valentine’s parties. I learned I despise glue guns. And I learned that I am not room mom material, and I am okay with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my children and all the sweet parties and the cute crafts they bring home. I will cherish all of these moments from their childhood. I will take lots of pictures and have lots of laughs with them. But don’t expect to see Taylor Williams on the signup sheet for room mom any time soon. 

One Year Later

I don’t know about you but these Facebook memories that pop up every day are such a sweet reminder of how fast life goes. How quickly the kids grow, how cute they used to be (well I mean they’re still just as cute, of course), and how much things have changed.

But today was different. The first Facebook memory that popped up was my very first blog entry one year ago. And in one year I have only written three times. I realize I can’t actually call myself a blogger if I only write once every few months. So from this day on, I am challenging myself to write more – a lot more. I am not sure how well that will work since I feel like our days are just chaos, but I am going to give it a shot!

A lot has changed in a year for our family. Bryson started kindergarten, Brystol started PreK, we moved, we got a puppy, and sweet baby Bryn isn’t a baby anymore.

First of all, no one can prepare you for sending your little child to Kindergarten. I didn’t think something so normal would make me so emotional. The school looked huge and my sweet little five-year-old was so tiny compared to those big hallways.

The first few weeks he was an angel. It makes you feel like such a good parent when your child is so good at school. Like pat myself on the back, I have this mom thing down! Then the first couple weeks of school pass and he gets comfortable, he makes friends, and he starts pushing the limits! Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t always bad, but we have had our share of walking laps at recess, red points, and even a LONELY lunch!! And scissors??? Little crazy boys should NOT be allowed to use scissors. In the past two weeks we are down four shirts and three pairs of pants from “accidentally cutting himself.” I mean come on!!!! But hey, he’s surviving, and we have met so many wonderful new friends through him starting school, plus I couldn’t have asked for him to have a better teacher!

And my sweet Brystol was made for school. She gets irritated that I have to walk her in to class. Mind you, she’s four, and in PreK. We HAVE to walk her in – it’s the rule! She has yet to have a bad day, has yet to complain about waking up to get ready, and hasn’t once complained about the dreaded “learning” Bryson warned her about. She spends 15 minutes every day before school trying to pick out the perfect outfit. Her new favorites are blacks and whites, because that is what “teenagers” are wearing these days. She has no idea what she is actually talking about, but this momma is just so proud of her love of fashion!!

Brynlee is a year and a half now. And poor Bryn, when you are the youngest you just get dragged around from soccer to dance to the car line. She never knows what her day is going to be like but for the most part she always goes with the flow.

But make no mistake, as easy going as she is, that girl is crazy. I’m talking standing on the table, throwing food, yelling, pulling the dogs ears kind of crazy. We are constantly chasing after her to try and save ourselves from the next disaster she’s about to cause. The other day I walked into Brystol’s room to find Bryn covered in permanent marker from head to toe. We have often found her throwing the oranges she claims are balls and getting into her sisters nail polish. She is at that dreaded age where she won’t sit in a stroller or a high chair. And let’s be honest, Jamey and I are too exhausted to fight her.

So she often gets her way. And we often find ourselves telling the big kids, “just give it to her so she’ll hush.” I know what you are thinking; you guys are going to regret that. Trust me, we do already. But she is so darn cute, we can’t help it. When the other two were her age I worked, so they stayed with my grandparents most days and went to daycare part time. And if I am being honest, I am pretty sure my grandparents had these toddler years way more in control that I do now. And if there was chaos like I experience on a daily basis, they didn’t tell me about it!

I always feel like when I walk in public people are just staring at the five of us. Like whoa, what a disaster. The kids are always so loud (I swear they don’t have an inside voice), my hair is always in a ponytail, my six-year-old dressed himself, and the baby is just in a world of her own wreaking havoc, and I am just hoping no one notices – that maybe they are too far into their own state of insanity to even see us.

And I am praying my kids don’t notice that I am almost always on the brink of my own giant fit. If one more child cries over the color of juice box they get, I may lose it. Yes, I give my kids juice boxes. So sue me. I am praying that they won’t remember the time mom yelled at them over something crazy, I am praying they don’t remember the day I let them watch the iPad for three hours straight so I could get some things done. I am praying that they always remember how much we love them, how much we did just for them. How every night we sit down to dinner, pray and have great silly conversations. I pray that those are things they remember.

I guess that is all for today. It took me 30 minutes to write this. In those few minutes, the puppy ate a colored pencil, Brystol ate at least five snacks (which she knows she is not supposed to do), and I can only hear Bryn but can’t actually see her! Wish me luck J