An Honest Post

This has been a hard week for me. Okay, this year has been hard. But this week has been particularly challenging. It’s been busy, which is exhausting in and of itself. I’ve been dragging my feet at work because I’m just ready for a break. I’ve been missing my kids. A lot. And it didn’t help that the babysitter called me at work the other day to tell me that Emma had just said “mama.” Then last night I got some sad news. And that was it for me.

So God and I had one of those honest talks in the car on the way home. The kind where I ask him what his deal is, only there’s more swearing involved.

I got home, played with my kids, put them to bed, and walked to Sonic in a tank top, despite the 50 degrees, to get a treat, because damn it that day sucked. And as I was sitting there knitting at Sonic in my tank top waiting for my chili cheese fries (I know—it’s quite a picture) God told me he heard me. I was still mad. But I knew he heard me.

Because that’s the thing about God. It’s okay for us to get angry with him. Last year a friend of mine did something that adversely affected me. She was afraid that our friendship was over. And I think that happens a lot. Sometimes in relationships some people think that fighting means an end. But it doesn’t with God. You can get angry and fight with him, even swear at him, and that relationship is still there. Probably stronger by the end of it. I like that about God.

So now today is a new day, and I’m still hurt and angry. But that’s okay. I’m going to do what I know how to do. I’m going to spend spring break smothering my kids. I’m going to pull out my yarn and my pattern books and knit my third set of chemo hats in two years. And I’m going to pray. Angry, hopeful, prayers. Because that’s what I know how to do.

Eight Months

Last week Emma turned eight months. Eight months! (Notice the monthly updates are not happening on time.) This first year or hers just keeps on chugging by.

Stats: 16.5 lbs and 26 inches. 15th percentile for both weight and length.

This has been a BIG month for Miss E. She's grown two whole teeth. She has acquired a million new skills, like clapping and waving and going from laying to sitting and sleeping through the night. Yes, you heard me. She sleeps in her crib all night long like a big girl. Which means mama gets to sleep in her bed all night long like a big girl. And have two glasses of wine at book club like a big girl.

I'm passionately in love with this little girl. She is so sweet and happy. She charms everyone in her path and dishes out smiles to the world, which she easily holds in the palm of her chubby little hand. Yes, chub. She finally gave up the solid food embargo, and she eats with alacrity whatever I give her. So she's finally chunking up a bit. Except for that belly. All of her crunches ensure a nice six-pack.

She can't crawl yet, but she can manage to get across the room. It's actually super amusing. She'll lunge forward onto her hands and knees, do one crawl forward, get down on her belly, roll once or twice, push herself to sitting, then repeat until she has reached her desired destination. I've taken a couple of videos but they refuse to allow themselves to be shared. So you'll have to wait to see it.

 

Happy Eight Months, Emma Bug! I love you!!!

sunday night musings

It's 11:15pm. I can't sleep. Which is weird because I LOVE SLEEP, and I can never seem to get enough of it. Except apparently tonight. I like to go to bed by 10 (shut up and stop laughing--I have two tiny children who wake up before God and a full-time job that runs me into the ground). My alarm is going to go off in six hours, and I'd love to be sleeping right now. But I don't think Matt appreciates the tossing and turning, so here I am. Although I don't really appreciate the snoring, but it is what it is.

I hosted book club this evening. I took a shower and shaved in a record seven minutes before people got here. I have about a dozen gashes in my legs. I was running low on time because I was busy cramming into closets all of the evidence of human life in my house, like receipts and mail and laundry and cartoon crab tattoos. Isn't it funny how we do that? Shave our legs and hide our dirty laundry (both physical and metaphorical) when our friends come over? Like it would shock them to know that we have a box of envelopes? But I will say this--I may never pull that crap out of the Target bag in the linen closet because my house looks so pretty without it. Although that may not go over well with the IRS, because I still need to do my taxes, and my W2 is in there.

We are painting. Not right now--Matt is snoring and I'm typing. But we're in the process of painting our little dwelling. I'm in love. It's tricky because we've got the little people, so most of the work happens after a long day of work and parenting and the kids are in bed, so we're pretty tired and a little snippy. But I'm doing the nesting my heart has been crying out for since I got married, and that feminine and domestic part of me is heaving a big sigh of relief and satisfaction. The kids' room is dreamy, and I'm aching to finish it. Do you think Ikea is open right now?

A few themes have been emerging in 2012. One is kind of a limp to some invisible finish line (June, maybe?). That's the Monday through Friday Theme. Survival. Then there's the Weekend Theme. A weekly falling in love with my family and my life. On the weekends I sit on the floor cheering Emma on as she drunkenly makes her way across the room somehow while Matt and Ben wear superhero capes and we all have dance parties. We sit on blankets in the front yard having tea parties. We walk/ride bikes around the block and to the park. We have breakfast at Ruby's, then go home and play/read independently while Emma naps. Then we go to Target and Sprouts, then have a picnic deli lunch on the tables outside while we talk about our favorite parts of the day. We cuddle and laugh and play and I have hundreds of little moments when I think my heart might burst because I'm so crazy nuts in love with our life together. How important do you think the work thing really is? Because the four of us together...it's kind of amazing.

My eyes are getting heavy. Time to sleep. Good night, Internet. Good night, weekend. Lord, beer me strength for the next five days.

Nerdy Breakfast

This is apparently what nerds talk about at the breakfast table with their children...

Ben (talking about the Backyardigans): Pablo starts with P. Tyrone starts with T. Austin starts with...
Me: That one's tricky. Austin starts with au. It's called a digraph.
Ben: What's a digraph?
Me: Two letters that work together to make a sound. Like th and ch and au.
Ben: What about ab?
Me: Not exactly.
Ben: Can we watch Soccer Monster?
Me: Sure.

Hitting the Reset Button

I think I’m going to do something crazy. And I haven’t told Matt about it (hey babe! surprise!). So I think I’m going to go halfsies on Lent and give up TV from now until Easter. I know, I know. SUCH a sacrifice. But seriously. I don’t actually watch a lot of TV. But it’s my go-to Mental Break Hour each evening. After the kids go to bed I collapse on the couch with my knitting and my remote. I usually turn it off by 9:00ish, so I really only watch an hour, two at the most, each evening. But I want to kind of create some space for quiet for the next couple of weeks. Maybe read. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I haven’t been much of a reader lately. And when I say lately I mean since Emma’s birth eight months ago. My brain is just toast, and reading puts me to sleep. True story. I’ve made it half way through the last three book club books. Yikes. But I’m hosting it this time, and it’s this weekend. So I need to turn off the TV and read. And pray. And parent. And spend real time with Matt, not just sit next to him on the couch watching Mad Men (OMG, how good was the season premiere?!?!?!). Or whatever.

Anyway, I have some goals for the next few weeks. More reading. More knitting. More pictures (I’ve been slacking lately. And those two little ones are growing so freaking fast, so I need to document it.). More play time. More walks. More time with God. I want to set aside time to work with Ben on school-y things. I want to actually put together Emma’s baby book (yeah...I haven’t even bought it yet...). Or our wedding album. And start our garden. And do crafts and nature-y things with Ben. And ride bikes. Maybe I should get one. Yeah...I need a bike.

Now there’s this idyllic montage running through my head. With a sunset bike ride, flying a kite on the beach, planting in the garden, reading, knitting, playing scrabble...probably pretty unrealistic. But it’s my montage, so let me have it.

It’s kind of been a long week, though (yes it’s only Wednesday morning). And I’m pretty tired. And Downton Abby Season Two will be arriving in the mail from Netflix in a couple of days. Maybe I’ll just watch a little TV. You know, to prep my mind and body for all the reading and scrabble and kite flying.

Dang it. Oh well. Here’s to being a grown-up in a first world country where I have the luxury of making these choices. Cheers.

The Gospel According to Benjamin

So B and I had this heavy theological conversation on the way to church this morning:

Me: what do you think you'll learn about today?
B: Jesus.
Me: What do you know about Jesus?
B: Stuff.
Me: Where does Jesus live?
B: In the Bible.
Me: What does he do?
B: He gives people stuff.

And this is what we discussed on the way home...

Me: What did you learn about today?
B: Jonah.
Me: What happened to Jonah?
B: He had a big dream about a fish and he died.

Saving Daylight

I used to love "Fall Back" and hate "Spring Forward." Of course, now that I think about it, the joke was on me, because as a teenager/adult who did not have to work on Sunday, the time was irrelevant--I could sleep as late as I wanted. But at least the thought that I could sleep an extra hour was lovely, and the thought of losing an hour of sleep was devastating, even if the gains and losses were only perceived.

But now I am here to tell you that once you have kids, the gains and losses are not perceived, they are staggeringly real, and mostly losses. Small children cannot tell time, and even if they could, they could not care less what time they are "supposed" to get up. In fact, I think somewhere inside those tiny heads they are deviously plotting ways to rob us of sleep, probably so they can laugh at our drunken attempts to stumble through the day in our sleep-deprived states. Yes, I have a very lofty view of my children's intelligence and propensity for malice and manipulation. Or it's the sleep-deprivation talking. Hard to say.

I have, however, noticed a shift in my perception of the time changes. I have grown to hate "Fall Back" and marginally like "Spring Forward". Just hear me out. The time change does not extend nighttime sleep--it extends the daytime. Because they're still gonna wake up after having slept for ____ hours. Which means that in the fall they will wake up at 5am instead of 6, but you still have to put them to bed at 7:30, which means they've got an extra hour of awake time. Then the sun sets at like 4:30, which means they have to be inside after that, which means three hours indoors in the evening. Then they continue to wake up at 5:00 every morning, and it takes you two months to get them to "sleep in" until 6:00 again. NO THANK YOU. To ALL of it.

On the flip side, in the spring they "sleep in" until 7 instead of 6, and you still get to put them to bed at 7:30, which means one less hour of awake time. (And the next day they "sleep in" again, which means you have extra quiet alone time to drink warm coffee and blog.) Then the sun sets at 7:00, which means after dinner you can go for a bike ride.

Yes please.