The third time is not always the charm

Some may think that having twins right out of the gate would be exhausting. But in actuality starting off with two is only more difficult at the beginning. Once they are a few months old you've got the hang of it (you've got two hands for a reason, right). Perhaps I feel this way because I have no idea what it feels like to have just one kid. But when I had my third son it changed everything. Yes he is amazing and wonderful and I adore him endlessly, but the change in the household dynamic has been exasperating.

I didn't have 'lil man until the big boys were five years old. The three of us remember those pre-third child days fondly and clearly since that was only a mere five years ago. Things just seemed simpler then. Everything was on a schedule. The boys were functioning at the same level. Everyone knew their place in the world. Now that my 'lil man is getting older it is getting far more difficult. With the big boys, the early days were the hardest (well, then again at three, and again at seven and a half when they turned into aliens, but that is a different conversation) but with little man it has been the opposite.

Aside from completely forgetting about that whole diaper thing and needing to be fed every few hours, I had that baby thing down pat. A well-oiled machine, you could say. Heck, I mastered twins, I was a professional mother by that point. He was sitting up by four or five months, walking by nine months -- he was a breeze, minus that acid reflux business at the very beginning. But now, oh no, now he has to make up for it all.

Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I made him more mature than he should be. Perhaps being home with me all these years has ruined him. Too much grown-up time for him. In the real world he is only four years old, but in his world, he is ten. This is the exhausting part. How do you reason with a four year old that believes he is ten? We're dealing with a chihuahua that thinks he is a pit pull here, it is not pretty.

So tonight I've made the command decision that if he is going to act like he is grown he is going to be treated like he is grown, with a few modifications, of course. Number one, no staying up late. Makes the rest of us miserable. Number two, he will be responsible for chores and be held accountable for how well they were accomplished. Number three, ... ugh, I don't know yet but there will be a number three. Stand by.

168 Hours and My Sisti

My darling sister

Me

I had a chat with my sisti the other night. I was telling her about one of the exercises that I completed in a book I was reading (168 Hours by Laura Vanderkam -- highly recommend). You were tasked to create a list of one hundred dreams/aspirations for your life. The list could be anything from always having dark chocolate in the house to seeing a performance at La Fenice (both are on my list). I got a quarter of the way through my list and got stuck. Who knew it was so difficult to write out a list of 100 dreams for yourself? I looked over my list and saw quite the pattern. Most items on the list were about traveling, living simply, speaking many languages, splitting my time between the States and Europe, and learning new skills. It gave me pause to see all of these things listed out. Who was I? Apparently I am not the person I thought I was. Thus the point of my phone call to my sisti.

She is such a love. Listens to me go on and on about whatever. Interjects at times, but mostly just listens and offers sound, unbiased advice. I am amazed by her. She is always so calm, easygoing, cheerful, and optimistic. Her life is firmly grounded in routine and structure, so much so that when she visits us she would forget her head if it wasn't screwed on. What amazes, and baffles, me is how in the world she puts up with me, and has since she left for college (before that, not so much). One day I'm getting her opinion about moving to Asheville, and the very next day I am asking her to look up schools for the boys in Portland, OR. I'm stressed and frazzled over homeschooling the kids and running my business while she is home making soup and watching Everton play on the tele. I love her. I envy her. I could never be her.

We are, in fact, polar opposites.

Me Her

As always, she gave it to me straight; I may not be the person I thought I was going to be (CEO of a major international corporation), but I really shouldn't be surprised by how I turned out. Her words: I think we had some gypsies in our ancestry. Personally, I think we had some European royalty, but I digress. I guess she saw it coming years ago. I suppose she knew it the second the big boys were born. It took me ten years to realize what she has known all along. But I suppose being the spectator to someone else's life gives you a better perspective.

So, who am I? Well according to my list of one hundred (that I am still yet to finish) I am a lover of design, architecture, traveling and languages. I take my job as a mother to my boys very seriously and want to raise them with an appreciation for life outside of their own. I strive for professional success but only if it stays within the confines of my personal priorities. I want to live a simple life, by choice, not necessity, and to leave the smallest footprint I can so all of my kid's kids can enjoy life like we have.

I've been thinking about writing a blog for some time but wasn't certain on the content. I didn't want it to only cover professional subjects, nor did I want it to be just another parenting blog. I wanted to stay clear of a "green" blog because they are all the rage now and there are so many design blogs that I could never compete. I needed my sister again, especially since I was planning to name the blog after her.

Not My Sister's Life -- It's about my life which couldn't be any more different than her's.