So I played the roll of busy wife/mom tonight, after I got home around 9pm. Let's just say the BFF's evening didn't go as planned. I walked in the door kind of late worrying about him getting to work on time. That was it. I walked in the door and there was little more I could do without walking on the mess that was the living room. He apologized profusely but when I saw him in jeans and a T-shirt I knew it was more important he get ready for work. Apparently they'd just gotten home 20 minutes ago or so. He had an appointment to get to, for which he was later than he wanted to be, and the kids delayed him quite a bit. (And he's usually the more capable parent.)
After making sure he didn't want help getting out the door, and seeing a plate of dinner set before me which made my stomach growl, I decided it best to eat first, clean later. After he shoved off, I had work to do. One stress reliever I've discovered is leaving the dishes for the morning (within reason). Food was scraped off and dishes set up for cleaning and that was that. Tomorrow is trash and recycle. With the kitchen cleaned up enough, I started going for trash bags from the back to the front. I grabbed the bathroom's and noticed the toilet. Yeeeaaahhhh.... Jess did mention something about Bekah getting in there and clogging it. He didn't mention the back splash of... ick... So I paused in trash duty for, uh, that duty. There, whew! Back to trash and set it in the foyer for him to pull out in the morning. Now for the living room.
We have two toddlers. I used to teach preschool. It's only natural I wanted to trade the messy toy box for a nice toy bucket organizer shelf-like thingy. Word of advice for those as anal retentive as me: it doesn't stay organized. I know, "Duh?!" But really, I still try, besides most of the toys were already scattered about between their room and the living room floor, kitchen, couch, and stroller pocket. By the way Jesse, please make sure to remove the items in the lower bin before folding said stroller. The Dora book barely survived. :)
I tidied up the million animals in their room as well and after that... it was ME time! P90X Plyometrics, here I come! So proud of myself for getting into this routine, and for Jess for getting me those DVDs. Workout complete, house mostly cleaned, toilet definitely cleaned, a small basket of kids' laundry to fold, dishes to be left for the morning... It's time for a shower and maybe one DVR'ed show.
Maybe it's the workout talking, but I feel accomplished tonight... and effing tired really but hey, we all need a super-mom/wife feeling once in a while. Tomorrow brings a dance party for the kids at the library, then hanging at Mama's before work. House shouldn't get too out of shape then... maybe...
Round is a Shape
Okay so there's looking 'thin' and feeling 'thin' and really I'm not so much concerned about that as I am feeling fit. I could gain 15lbs and not care if it meant I was in better shape. I used to dance four nights a week and I was in awesome shape, but then I also had horrible wind; no cardio ability whatsoever. Years later I got into Kenpo karate thanks to a friend in a Cardio-kickboxing class. It was a rough road for a while but I found my wind thanks to an amazing instructor. So there I was, in my prime (yes, I'm going there), physically fit with cardio ability and all. Okay, so I wasn't exactly a marathon runner, but I was in great shape for me. (I also weighed 15-20lbs more than I do now for those who follow numbers. Proof they aren't everything.)
Right now, two kids and years of no hard physical activity later, I couldn't take 15 minutes of a karate class let alone a kickboxing class. I can barely climb stairs without getting winded. My kids are each about 28lbs and I can't carry both at the same time without some back pain... okay, even one without back pain. Really, it's not my style to be this un-fit. I have lost the weight, and I had about 75lbs to loose after recovering from my son. I'm less than when I got married, but I'm not that shape anymore. Child-bearing changes more than one's belly. My ribs are wider, boobs sag, chest and waist and hips are completely different proportions than they used to be. It's not about getting a different size; I have to shop for different styles than I could get before. Very frustrating! I can't tell you how many times I had to buy new bras. They are not cheap! Blasted things probably cost me a pay check.
Here's the plan: Lent starts tomorrow; so do I. I can't afford those high-profile programs like the P90X, but I do know how to work out a workout. I know how to do push-ups (albeit I'm not great), I can don sit-ups (though not like I used to), I can do jumping jacks and cardio workouts. I'll be slow at first, mostly stretching and slow strength training, but I'm going to try to stick to it. I have a couple friends who've said they'll hold me to it. Accountability is my issue. I'll go to a class if I'm signed up. I'll take my kids to the park when it's in the plan. But will I take an hour or even 30 minutes between coming home at 9pm and going to bed by midnight to actually exert myself? That's where I need someone to make sure I'm making myself do it.
So, wish me luck. No idea how much time I'll be able to commit each night, or how long this will last, or how effective a quiet, nighttime workout can be, but I'm giving it a shot. Someday, if my schedule changes, maybe I'll be able to get back to karate, or even back to staging (which I also miss dearly!!), but I won't be able to do either until I get myself back into shape, a healthy, fit shape regardless of any numbers.
Right now, two kids and years of no hard physical activity later, I couldn't take 15 minutes of a karate class let alone a kickboxing class. I can barely climb stairs without getting winded. My kids are each about 28lbs and I can't carry both at the same time without some back pain... okay, even one without back pain. Really, it's not my style to be this un-fit. I have lost the weight, and I had about 75lbs to loose after recovering from my son. I'm less than when I got married, but I'm not that shape anymore. Child-bearing changes more than one's belly. My ribs are wider, boobs sag, chest and waist and hips are completely different proportions than they used to be. It's not about getting a different size; I have to shop for different styles than I could get before. Very frustrating! I can't tell you how many times I had to buy new bras. They are not cheap! Blasted things probably cost me a pay check.
Here's the plan: Lent starts tomorrow; so do I. I can't afford those high-profile programs like the P90X, but I do know how to work out a workout. I know how to do push-ups (albeit I'm not great), I can don sit-ups (though not like I used to), I can do jumping jacks and cardio workouts. I'll be slow at first, mostly stretching and slow strength training, but I'm going to try to stick to it. I have a couple friends who've said they'll hold me to it. Accountability is my issue. I'll go to a class if I'm signed up. I'll take my kids to the park when it's in the plan. But will I take an hour or even 30 minutes between coming home at 9pm and going to bed by midnight to actually exert myself? That's where I need someone to make sure I'm making myself do it.
So, wish me luck. No idea how much time I'll be able to commit each night, or how long this will last, or how effective a quiet, nighttime workout can be, but I'm giving it a shot. Someday, if my schedule changes, maybe I'll be able to get back to karate, or even back to staging (which I also miss dearly!!), but I won't be able to do either until I get myself back into shape, a healthy, fit shape regardless of any numbers.
What's Left
I'm due to loosen the brain (what's left of it) and flex my fingers a bit. I'm breaking from the 'book' because God knows I really need a reality check. Okay, too many directions to go in here. Ever feel like your brain is full? It's a computer and, like a computer, I'm all out of memory. I don't know if I need more hard drive space, RAM, or a faster processor, but I am full up and slowing down mentally. So what if I don't know who 'famous' people are? So what if I barely catch the news and never know what people are talking about? So what if someone I know is pregnant and I just found out... and she's nine months along. I hear some people would care about these things. I'm apparently too wrapped up in my own issues to notice or care.
Okay, just stared blankly for a minute and lost myself. See?! I don't even pay attention to myself! Talk about scatter-brained! Is anyone paying attention to how daft I am lately? I'm not talking about trying to put the silverwear away in the fridge, or walking to the kitchen and forgetting why I'm there. I mean solid brain gaps, or would that be concrete brain blocks? I don't know. Part of me does care... the small part that doesn't actually dominate the part of me that tries to do things about things. Part of me wants to whack myself upside the head and say, "Hey! Get your damned act together! There's nothing wrong with you and you know it!" Other parts say, "Who cares? Disappear into some unreality and forget about it." Have I become so complacent with trying to 'not-sweat-the-little-things' that I don't care about anything anymore? I must say my stress levels are way down, but the give-a-shit factor may have been affected as well.
Alright, let's just assume for a minute that I'm just venting at my own lack of awareness of the world around me, as in news, media, friends, family, everything. It's frustrating being the person who's clueless to everything. Those who know me know I like to be the one with something clever to say, something funny or encouraging or significant somehow. Castle. Yeah, insider. But seriously, this decline of mind has been happening long before the first mini-me started succubi-ing my insides. (There's a visual for you!) I remember looking with interest and understanding at my brother's college Calculus homework while I was a junior in high school. I remember figuring a few algorithms in my head for fictional science just for fun. I remember studying the 8 human senses out of curiosity of my own anosmia. Now I'm lucky if I complete a sentence coherently. Subject, check. Predicate, check. Forget balancing my checkbook. Zero, done. (j/k, sort of.) I just want to manage cooking more than cereal for my kids' breakfast and taking them to run a few errands without getting lost or spending too much time staring at the prices and wondering if it's worth it.
On the note of running errands, I will no longer be taking my children, or myself, to places which I do not know the way... by heart. I can't navigate like I used to either. Sucks having no friends close, let alone no friends with kids close, and really no way of getting them involved in a play group. I've become the person I can't stand: that mom who's basically incapable of life. My husband does everything, cooks, cleans, shops, fixes... I can match clothes and do laundry; that's about it lately. This has done two things for me in life: I have more time with nothing I can do (reasonably or efficiently), and I have less time to figure out how to get my act together. Pull yourself together, kid! Seriously, I can't get out of my own way! (For those even reading this and wondering: Yes, I've tried the MD route and she put me on anti-convulsents...yeah not so much, thanks.)
Okay so I'm winding down on the vent and feeling like, I dunno, I at the very least accomplished putting words together in sentence format. Yay, go me. Blog, check. So you're thinking either, "Oh, Caroline, pull yourself together and stop exaggerating!" or "Haha, very cute." or "OMG, this girl needs help! When did this all start?" Maybe something in between? Whatever. Talk to me sometime about it but I'll most likely have forgotten all about posting this. Should someone be concerned? So far, I got nothing.
Okay, just stared blankly for a minute and lost myself. See?! I don't even pay attention to myself! Talk about scatter-brained! Is anyone paying attention to how daft I am lately? I'm not talking about trying to put the silverwear away in the fridge, or walking to the kitchen and forgetting why I'm there. I mean solid brain gaps, or would that be concrete brain blocks? I don't know. Part of me does care... the small part that doesn't actually dominate the part of me that tries to do things about things. Part of me wants to whack myself upside the head and say, "Hey! Get your damned act together! There's nothing wrong with you and you know it!" Other parts say, "Who cares? Disappear into some unreality and forget about it." Have I become so complacent with trying to 'not-sweat-the-little-things' that I don't care about anything anymore? I must say my stress levels are way down, but the give-a-shit factor may have been affected as well.
Alright, let's just assume for a minute that I'm just venting at my own lack of awareness of the world around me, as in news, media, friends, family, everything. It's frustrating being the person who's clueless to everything. Those who know me know I like to be the one with something clever to say, something funny or encouraging or significant somehow. Castle. Yeah, insider. But seriously, this decline of mind has been happening long before the first mini-me started succubi-ing my insides. (There's a visual for you!) I remember looking with interest and understanding at my brother's college Calculus homework while I was a junior in high school. I remember figuring a few algorithms in my head for fictional science just for fun. I remember studying the 8 human senses out of curiosity of my own anosmia. Now I'm lucky if I complete a sentence coherently. Subject, check. Predicate, check. Forget balancing my checkbook. Zero, done. (j/k, sort of.) I just want to manage cooking more than cereal for my kids' breakfast and taking them to run a few errands without getting lost or spending too much time staring at the prices and wondering if it's worth it.
On the note of running errands, I will no longer be taking my children, or myself, to places which I do not know the way... by heart. I can't navigate like I used to either. Sucks having no friends close, let alone no friends with kids close, and really no way of getting them involved in a play group. I've become the person I can't stand: that mom who's basically incapable of life. My husband does everything, cooks, cleans, shops, fixes... I can match clothes and do laundry; that's about it lately. This has done two things for me in life: I have more time with nothing I can do (reasonably or efficiently), and I have less time to figure out how to get my act together. Pull yourself together, kid! Seriously, I can't get out of my own way! (For those even reading this and wondering: Yes, I've tried the MD route and she put me on anti-convulsents...yeah not so much, thanks.)
Okay so I'm winding down on the vent and feeling like, I dunno, I at the very least accomplished putting words together in sentence format. Yay, go me. Blog, check. So you're thinking either, "Oh, Caroline, pull yourself together and stop exaggerating!" or "Haha, very cute." or "OMG, this girl needs help! When did this all start?" Maybe something in between? Whatever. Talk to me sometime about it but I'll most likely have forgotten all about posting this. Should someone be concerned? So far, I got nothing.
Of Mice and Men
There's a mouse in our house... hopefully just one but who knows? We keep finding chewed up utensils in one of the drawers and haven't had time to buy and set any traps. Maybe tomorrow. Oh tomorrow... how I long for thee... (insert music: Somedaaayyyyy....)
Ahem, yes well... As I sit here trying to rid my mind of some children's song and not think about the mess of books and toys left out in the living room, I have to mention the success of this weekend. My brother and I pulled off quite the trick getting a surprise party together for my dad's 70th and getting him up here from Texas without either parent knowing. *Mischief Managed!* We were very happy about that. It was a very busy Saturday in fact. I broke my baby toe (likely but not confirmed beyond a black joint), kicked the rents out of the house with the kids, finished a huge Italian dinner my mama started, decorated, welcomed guests, helped break-up/avoid WWIII when it came to parking and certain egos vs neighbors, surprised the crappola out of the rents, balanced socializing with running the party, and got the kids home for bed... and I did it all with the help of my BFF! He really is the best husband in the world.
Okay, cheesy moment warning: It doesn't take a compassionate woman to recognize the hard work of a loving man. I'm proof since I'm about as cold-hearted and discompassionate as one can get at times. When I'm emotional at all it's irrational. Girly? Not me baby! Cards, anniversary dates and birthdays, special momentos and tender details... Blah! I'm just not good at that stuff and it's so not on my priority list. I listened to some co-workers bitching about their husbands the other day and thought, Wow, Jess isn't like that at all, and if he did any of those things he'd have good reason and I wouldn't rag on him for it. Another girl was bitching because the flowers she got were all wrong and stupid and blahblahblah... Really? Aren't you dumped yet? If you can't appreciate the effort someone extends to you then get out of that relationship! I got a FB message on my wall along the lines of, "blah blah, mushy stuff, I luv you." Now that's the best V-Day message for me.
While we're on the subject, I'll throw the big vent out there. People spend recockulous amounts of their paychecks on flowers, cards, candy, and whatever else and all to say "I love you." But what's the real message? Are we only in love once a year, spending the rest in a rat race of work, bills, home repair or what-have-you? I'm not saying this gesture of over-spending on Hallmark-worded love notes should extend throughout the year, yet for many it does. I'm saying let's not belittle the love we have for each other by exonerating the American holiday because someone in media says so. Let's exonerate love as it was meant to be. My husband runs our little maze day in and day out, night in and night out, running himself dry for the sake of our family's well-being. We see each other about once a week, which is way more than families in the military with loved ones deployed overseas. We hardly communicate and when we do it's (unfortunately) misinterpreted or lost. We're broke, broken, tired, tried, run down, run over, but we've got something no amount of money or rest or anything else could ever offer. We've got devotion to each other, love for the person each of us is inside. Jesse is my best friend because, well, who else would put up with me, but really because he knows me and doesn't have to impress me or shower me with stereotyped gifts I'll never want or use. We're not cover models carrying around brand-name garbage at over-priced mark-ups for the sake of looking good. We look horrible for the sake of getting done what needs getting done in life. Each day I choose to love him and each day I'm never, ever disappointed.
Hey Hallmark, put that in your hat and chew hard. :p
Ahem, yes well... As I sit here trying to rid my mind of some children's song and not think about the mess of books and toys left out in the living room, I have to mention the success of this weekend. My brother and I pulled off quite the trick getting a surprise party together for my dad's 70th and getting him up here from Texas without either parent knowing. *Mischief Managed!* We were very happy about that. It was a very busy Saturday in fact. I broke my baby toe (likely but not confirmed beyond a black joint), kicked the rents out of the house with the kids, finished a huge Italian dinner my mama started, decorated, welcomed guests, helped break-up/avoid WWIII when it came to parking and certain egos vs neighbors, surprised the crappola out of the rents, balanced socializing with running the party, and got the kids home for bed... and I did it all with the help of my BFF! He really is the best husband in the world.
Okay, cheesy moment warning: It doesn't take a compassionate woman to recognize the hard work of a loving man. I'm proof since I'm about as cold-hearted and discompassionate as one can get at times. When I'm emotional at all it's irrational. Girly? Not me baby! Cards, anniversary dates and birthdays, special momentos and tender details... Blah! I'm just not good at that stuff and it's so not on my priority list. I listened to some co-workers bitching about their husbands the other day and thought, Wow, Jess isn't like that at all, and if he did any of those things he'd have good reason and I wouldn't rag on him for it. Another girl was bitching because the flowers she got were all wrong and stupid and blahblahblah... Really? Aren't you dumped yet? If you can't appreciate the effort someone extends to you then get out of that relationship! I got a FB message on my wall along the lines of, "blah blah, mushy stuff, I luv you." Now that's the best V-Day message for me.
While we're on the subject, I'll throw the big vent out there. People spend recockulous amounts of their paychecks on flowers, cards, candy, and whatever else and all to say "I love you." But what's the real message? Are we only in love once a year, spending the rest in a rat race of work, bills, home repair or what-have-you? I'm not saying this gesture of over-spending on Hallmark-worded love notes should extend throughout the year, yet for many it does. I'm saying let's not belittle the love we have for each other by exonerating the American holiday because someone in media says so. Let's exonerate love as it was meant to be. My husband runs our little maze day in and day out, night in and night out, running himself dry for the sake of our family's well-being. We see each other about once a week, which is way more than families in the military with loved ones deployed overseas. We hardly communicate and when we do it's (unfortunately) misinterpreted or lost. We're broke, broken, tired, tried, run down, run over, but we've got something no amount of money or rest or anything else could ever offer. We've got devotion to each other, love for the person each of us is inside. Jesse is my best friend because, well, who else would put up with me, but really because he knows me and doesn't have to impress me or shower me with stereotyped gifts I'll never want or use. We're not cover models carrying around brand-name garbage at over-priced mark-ups for the sake of looking good. We look horrible for the sake of getting done what needs getting done in life. Each day I choose to love him and each day I'm never, ever disappointed.
Hey Hallmark, put that in your hat and chew hard. :p
Getting Started, at the least
Getting started is always the hardest. That goes for blogs, chapters, emails, any posts, any jobs, and projects, anything. I started cutting hearts with my daughter the other day to make valentines for today. She succeeded in putting together an amazing birthday card for my dad, Papa. As a matter of fact, I'm receiving some of her 'artwork' now (torn pink, colored-on paper). She's slung two pink bags over her shoulder and is going on some imaginary trip. Oh to be young again when acted-out imaginations were part of everyday living! See that, I've completely digressed.
Okay, my 'tickets' have been recollected... now for my thoughts. I spent some time at mama's yesterday for lunch and to clean-up downstairs before Saturday's party. Vacuumed my butt off and rearranged some furniture to make a nice area for hanging out and playing Play Station or Wii. I even found a lost puzzle piece and glued it place since the completed, back-boarded puzzles were out and accessible. It was one of those 'someday' things that happened to happen... Totally rare! Feeling perhaps just as accomplished for that little feat as I did for the back-breaking stuff, I went upstairs and did a little housework for mama too. Sometimes Jess and I have so little time and too many wrenches in life to make things we plan actually happen. We still have a basement full of 'stuff' which hasn't been unpacked. I'm thinking we'd better do this before the big meltdown... just in case. Haven't had a rainy season in the Shack yet so...
In other news I've been working to a close in yet another 'chapter' which will please one friend out there. It's not remotely what I like, expected, wanted, or what fits best in the grand scheme of things. I have learned a few things from the characters and found multiple continuity errors in the verse... again. *SIGH* Yup, one step forward, eight steps back. Or is that 50-something pages more, 100-something pages to reread? AHCK! Whatev, right? Not like I have a deadline; it's just a sanity thing, something the BFF will never understand. If only I had more than an hour or two every other night, or someone to actually bounce ideas off of, or some semblance of sense... yeah, whatev.
That's been my best accomplishment by far lately: letting go, dealing, moving on. As I type, I've just had one of those moments. Bekah almost lost the whole post thus far by banging a pen against the keyboard, not that she should've had a pen... which is all over VJ's face now... *sigh* yup. Whatev. We have bigger problems, like getting charged on our checking account a large amount which was to have been canceled, but wasn't. Our oil bill from last month is still hanging on the dry-erase board in the kitchen, unpaid. The in-box on my desk is quite full. The what-do-you-want-to-do-with-these pile on Jesse's bureau is thick, but when does he have time to look at it? Oh and more Shack fun: we have mice! What fun! Jess found a chewed up spatula in the drawer. Add it to the list.
Hey, we're healthy, aside the lingering colds, eczema, sores, etc. We're in a home. We're blessed with wonderful children, ahem... "VJ, What!?!" Hmm, too quiet in the bedroom... We've got four grandparents for the lit'uns, which neither of us had. We have full time, dependable jobs. We have the Lord, which is more than enough. We are rich; I know that, and that's a start.
Okay, my 'tickets' have been recollected... now for my thoughts. I spent some time at mama's yesterday for lunch and to clean-up downstairs before Saturday's party. Vacuumed my butt off and rearranged some furniture to make a nice area for hanging out and playing Play Station or Wii. I even found a lost puzzle piece and glued it place since the completed, back-boarded puzzles were out and accessible. It was one of those 'someday' things that happened to happen... Totally rare! Feeling perhaps just as accomplished for that little feat as I did for the back-breaking stuff, I went upstairs and did a little housework for mama too. Sometimes Jess and I have so little time and too many wrenches in life to make things we plan actually happen. We still have a basement full of 'stuff' which hasn't been unpacked. I'm thinking we'd better do this before the big meltdown... just in case. Haven't had a rainy season in the Shack yet so...
In other news I've been working to a close in yet another 'chapter' which will please one friend out there. It's not remotely what I like, expected, wanted, or what fits best in the grand scheme of things. I have learned a few things from the characters and found multiple continuity errors in the verse... again. *SIGH* Yup, one step forward, eight steps back. Or is that 50-something pages more, 100-something pages to reread? AHCK! Whatev, right? Not like I have a deadline; it's just a sanity thing, something the BFF will never understand. If only I had more than an hour or two every other night, or someone to actually bounce ideas off of, or some semblance of sense... yeah, whatev.
That's been my best accomplishment by far lately: letting go, dealing, moving on. As I type, I've just had one of those moments. Bekah almost lost the whole post thus far by banging a pen against the keyboard, not that she should've had a pen... which is all over VJ's face now... *sigh* yup. Whatev. We have bigger problems, like getting charged on our checking account a large amount which was to have been canceled, but wasn't. Our oil bill from last month is still hanging on the dry-erase board in the kitchen, unpaid. The in-box on my desk is quite full. The what-do-you-want-to-do-with-these pile on Jesse's bureau is thick, but when does he have time to look at it? Oh and more Shack fun: we have mice! What fun! Jess found a chewed up spatula in the drawer. Add it to the list.
Hey, we're healthy, aside the lingering colds, eczema, sores, etc. We're in a home. We're blessed with wonderful children, ahem... "VJ, What!?!" Hmm, too quiet in the bedroom... We've got four grandparents for the lit'uns, which neither of us had. We have full time, dependable jobs. We have the Lord, which is more than enough. We are rich; I know that, and that's a start.
Learning of Love
Okay, I know this is overdue... and I can't even promise anything good since I'm diving in without a plan (and with the Bruins' game on) but at least I'm taking the time to put something down.
I don't know where to begin with all that's been on my mind lately. It's not like I haven't typed enough about the Love Shack or my lit'uns lately, or even the BFF. I guess the gist of what I've been meaning to blog about lately has been love. I suppose with Valentine's Day only a few weeks away it's not out of place. Actually, it's never a bad time to talk about love. There's a post I've been wanting to put together specifically but I don't have time, or the proper poise, tonight. Instead I'll recap my experiences from the last few weeks.
My heart has been aching lately, and no, not in a bad way. I've actually felt it 'growing' at times when some emotional or inspirational moment happens to someone before me and I feel the words, "Look. See what's happening." I've been observing, both others and myself. Of course I can only do anything about myself. Over the last couple months I've found ways to become more patient with my children, more understanding with my husband, more compassionate for our parents, and more forgiving for others. It's not easy. I can't express all I'd like to for privacy reasons, yet I can say that in my observations it's clear that there is only One direction in which to turn for comfort: Love. I've spent time in prayer for the purposes which perhaps I'll write about later, but nothing makes my heart ache more than the loss of that direction especially when caused by tragedy and a feeling of hopelessness.
Let me lighten the mood a bit. The other observations of love have been the change in our lives, our daily routines. My parents have been missing our children something terrible. We spent the weekend together by going to the mall on Saturday followed by dinner at their house and on Sunday they watched the kids while Jess and I cleaned some more of our things out of their basement... followed by dinner again. They get their kid-fix and we get stuff done, plus the kids get a change of scenery. It was especially nice to get out and about for me when we walked around the mall, plus Jess got to sleep in a quiet house after an overnight shift. And oh boy do my parents love to spoil the kids!
There's a carousel in the food court at the mall we went to and it was a buck a ride. Now, I don't think I've mentioned yet that my parents have stepped it up and gotten iPhones (an entirely other story). After Bekah picked our her horse (the only black horse), called it Callico, and climbed up and stuck her feet in the stirrups, I strapped them in and wedged between the close horses to hold her and VJ on. I don't know which was funnier, spending the ride listening to them cry, "WEeeeeee!!" while Mammy and Papa had their noses in their phones trying to work the camera, or noticing the relief of the anatomically correct male 'cherubs' on the back of the carriage in front of us.
Okay, I'm so distracted by the myriad of directions in which to go and the fact that the Bs need to score soon! Ahem, I was speaking of growth through observation of love. Ah yes, observing love. It's not just seen in the interactions of my parents and children. It's in the way the lit'uns beg me to sing to them at night (which Jess thinks is silly, but I love it). It's in the way my BFF makes me a plate of dinner every night, or spends all his free time clearing the feet of snow we've gotten, or the way we haul ourselves out of bed to comfort crying children. It's in the way my parents have forgiven debt because they know our financial troubles (although they have them too). It's observable far beyond our little family. It's in the way friends come together for someone suffering a great loss. It's in the way one person tries to understand another's pain while others see only the shallow surface of grief. It's in the way people do without needing to be asked, regardless of self sacrifice and foregoing self-preservation. It's far beyond that as well.
In my observations, I have found love to also be defined in the continuous turning to God in prayer; for what we do not understand He does, always. Love is not just found in our strength but in our weaknesses. Is it not love when my young ones cry for me? Is it not love when they're frustrated, scared, lonely, hungry, thirsty, bored, and they turn to someone who cares for them to solve what they cannot? Is it not love when we, in desperation, turn to Him who formed us for comfort, support, strength, guidance, and sometimes answers. I know my children don't always understand the answers I offer them, and that's through audible communication. I shouldn't wonder why so many are lost in the ways that God communicates to us. It's difficult to hear His Word when our minds are otherwise occupied. I'm no pro by any means, but I'm learning, growing, observing.
I don't know where to begin with all that's been on my mind lately. It's not like I haven't typed enough about the Love Shack or my lit'uns lately, or even the BFF. I guess the gist of what I've been meaning to blog about lately has been love. I suppose with Valentine's Day only a few weeks away it's not out of place. Actually, it's never a bad time to talk about love. There's a post I've been wanting to put together specifically but I don't have time, or the proper poise, tonight. Instead I'll recap my experiences from the last few weeks.
My heart has been aching lately, and no, not in a bad way. I've actually felt it 'growing' at times when some emotional or inspirational moment happens to someone before me and I feel the words, "Look. See what's happening." I've been observing, both others and myself. Of course I can only do anything about myself. Over the last couple months I've found ways to become more patient with my children, more understanding with my husband, more compassionate for our parents, and more forgiving for others. It's not easy. I can't express all I'd like to for privacy reasons, yet I can say that in my observations it's clear that there is only One direction in which to turn for comfort: Love. I've spent time in prayer for the purposes which perhaps I'll write about later, but nothing makes my heart ache more than the loss of that direction especially when caused by tragedy and a feeling of hopelessness.
Let me lighten the mood a bit. The other observations of love have been the change in our lives, our daily routines. My parents have been missing our children something terrible. We spent the weekend together by going to the mall on Saturday followed by dinner at their house and on Sunday they watched the kids while Jess and I cleaned some more of our things out of their basement... followed by dinner again. They get their kid-fix and we get stuff done, plus the kids get a change of scenery. It was especially nice to get out and about for me when we walked around the mall, plus Jess got to sleep in a quiet house after an overnight shift. And oh boy do my parents love to spoil the kids!
There's a carousel in the food court at the mall we went to and it was a buck a ride. Now, I don't think I've mentioned yet that my parents have stepped it up and gotten iPhones (an entirely other story). After Bekah picked our her horse (the only black horse), called it Callico, and climbed up and stuck her feet in the stirrups, I strapped them in and wedged between the close horses to hold her and VJ on. I don't know which was funnier, spending the ride listening to them cry, "WEeeeeee!!" while Mammy and Papa had their noses in their phones trying to work the camera, or noticing the relief of the anatomically correct male 'cherubs' on the back of the carriage in front of us.
Okay, I'm so distracted by the myriad of directions in which to go and the fact that the Bs need to score soon! Ahem, I was speaking of growth through observation of love. Ah yes, observing love. It's not just seen in the interactions of my parents and children. It's in the way the lit'uns beg me to sing to them at night (which Jess thinks is silly, but I love it). It's in the way my BFF makes me a plate of dinner every night, or spends all his free time clearing the feet of snow we've gotten, or the way we haul ourselves out of bed to comfort crying children. It's in the way my parents have forgiven debt because they know our financial troubles (although they have them too). It's observable far beyond our little family. It's in the way friends come together for someone suffering a great loss. It's in the way one person tries to understand another's pain while others see only the shallow surface of grief. It's in the way people do without needing to be asked, regardless of self sacrifice and foregoing self-preservation. It's far beyond that as well.
In my observations, I have found love to also be defined in the continuous turning to God in prayer; for what we do not understand He does, always. Love is not just found in our strength but in our weaknesses. Is it not love when my young ones cry for me? Is it not love when they're frustrated, scared, lonely, hungry, thirsty, bored, and they turn to someone who cares for them to solve what they cannot? Is it not love when we, in desperation, turn to Him who formed us for comfort, support, strength, guidance, and sometimes answers. I know my children don't always understand the answers I offer them, and that's through audible communication. I shouldn't wonder why so many are lost in the ways that God communicates to us. It's difficult to hear His Word when our minds are otherwise occupied. I'm no pro by any means, but I'm learning, growing, observing.
Peanut Butter Mom
I did it. I finally did it. I actually played the role of house wife/mom today. Okay so not the first time, but still I'm proud to have been so productive and on a day I worked too! Usually my kids cling to me and whine and scream all day. Those of you who LOVE my kids may not think this happens as dramatically as I put it but this is because you see them in 'shy' mode or, next level up, 'show-you-everything-I-own' mode. When it's just me and them it's hands-down Mommy! mode. Can't stand it sometimes, but I can't complain (refrain from counter comments please).
So today you wonder what miraculous feat I'd accomplished, how much, how well, and so on? In short, we made cookies, played outside, made lunch and [they] took a bubble bath... all before 3 o'clock. It started when my BFF came home with Micky-D's hash-browns. I boiled some eggs, nuked the last ham-steak, and dished out a nice ham-and-eggs-with-hash-brown breakfast, juice and a vitamin each. Score one for house mom on the successful meal in minutes!
Okay so big deal: breakfast. After some playtime and getting dressed... back-up for the cute moment. Bekah insisted on dressing herself which she does for stickers so I let her. I was playing with VJ when she came out, "Mama! I all done!" Pants on backwards, skinny shirt on over larger shirt, sock inside out, but the underwear was fine. Took some convincing but I fixed her. Now they want snack. "Cookie break!" Fine since it's around 10ish. As I clean out the last few cookies from the container with them, I remember I've been meaning to bake some for Friday (co-worker's last day). Peanut Butter cookies it is! Can't get to the stand mixer but I started teaching Bekah about baking with a spatula and a plain bowl so here goes.
"Don't put that in your mouth!"
"Wait for me to pour it in!"
"Sit down or you'll fall!"
"Don't wipe that on... Ooh..."
Overall it went well. The cookies aren't up to my normal baking standards, which used to be high, but they are edible and I even topped them with Hersey Kisses so I'd say it was a success. (The kids demanded a few of the chocolates themselves but they had to pay with a kiss first! Love that ploy!)
Next feat of the day - Snow Play! They want to go out. They don't want to go out. They want to go out. They don't. Bekah, over here honey. VJ, come get your suit on. Bekah, potty time first. VJ, put that back. Bekah, we're going out so get those snowpants on! VJ, where's your... Bekah, where'd you put his hat you were trying to wear?!
Ahhh.... we made it outside, even bypassing the beloved Cheeseballs kept in then cabinet right by the back door (and they, specifically he, knows that). After a while of convincing Bekah that VJ does Not want snow dumped on him, and getting a workout scooting myself along the sledding hill to pack it down for them (don't ask), we finally decided we were cold and wet enough to come in.
Lunch. Peanut butter, grape jelly, crackers, and their own little toddler knives to spread aforementioned ingredients from their little cups I arranged. After much knife-licking, face-painting, sandwich-making, and some picture-taking, oh and cheeseballs, it was bath time. BTW: there was no actual sandwich eating.
"Bekah stop wiping that on your shirt!"
"It's okay Mama. Peanut Butter will dry right off."
As my BFF has said, just run the bath water and they come running. Should've wiped them up a little first but peanut butter wipes off tub sides just fine. I tossed in bubble bath and gave them a quick wipe down before stripping them and helping them in. As they splashed away I cleaned the kitchen from food to dishes to table too chairs and even finished with laundry. By the time I came in (having checked on them occasionally, especially when they were quiet), the water was cold and she demanded I wash her hair. She didn't like it. Neither did he. Alas, it had to be done: Cheeseballs and peanut butter.
After drying off and cozying up for Totoro, I putzed around to finish anything I'd missed before Jesse got up. Really, I'm skipping all the major tantrums that plagued the day, but I must say it was a productive day for me. Tomorrow is Friday; I work all day. It's a nice break from home.
So today you wonder what miraculous feat I'd accomplished, how much, how well, and so on? In short, we made cookies, played outside, made lunch and [they] took a bubble bath... all before 3 o'clock. It started when my BFF came home with Micky-D's hash-browns. I boiled some eggs, nuked the last ham-steak, and dished out a nice ham-and-eggs-with-hash-brown breakfast, juice and a vitamin each. Score one for house mom on the successful meal in minutes!
Okay so big deal: breakfast. After some playtime and getting dressed... back-up for the cute moment. Bekah insisted on dressing herself which she does for stickers so I let her. I was playing with VJ when she came out, "Mama! I all done!" Pants on backwards, skinny shirt on over larger shirt, sock inside out, but the underwear was fine. Took some convincing but I fixed her. Now they want snack. "Cookie break!" Fine since it's around 10ish. As I clean out the last few cookies from the container with them, I remember I've been meaning to bake some for Friday (co-worker's last day). Peanut Butter cookies it is! Can't get to the stand mixer but I started teaching Bekah about baking with a spatula and a plain bowl so here goes.
"Don't put that in your mouth!"
"Wait for me to pour it in!"
"Sit down or you'll fall!"
"Don't wipe that on... Ooh..."
Overall it went well. The cookies aren't up to my normal baking standards, which used to be high, but they are edible and I even topped them with Hersey Kisses so I'd say it was a success. (The kids demanded a few of the chocolates themselves but they had to pay with a kiss first! Love that ploy!)
Next feat of the day - Snow Play! They want to go out. They don't want to go out. They want to go out. They don't. Bekah, over here honey. VJ, come get your suit on. Bekah, potty time first. VJ, put that back. Bekah, we're going out so get those snowpants on! VJ, where's your... Bekah, where'd you put his hat you were trying to wear?!
Ahhh.... we made it outside, even bypassing the beloved Cheeseballs kept in then cabinet right by the back door (and they, specifically he, knows that). After a while of convincing Bekah that VJ does Not want snow dumped on him, and getting a workout scooting myself along the sledding hill to pack it down for them (don't ask), we finally decided we were cold and wet enough to come in.
Lunch. Peanut butter, grape jelly, crackers, and their own little toddler knives to spread aforementioned ingredients from their little cups I arranged. After much knife-licking, face-painting, sandwich-making, and some picture-taking, oh and cheeseballs, it was bath time. BTW: there was no actual sandwich eating.
"Bekah stop wiping that on your shirt!"
"It's okay Mama. Peanut Butter will dry right off."
As my BFF has said, just run the bath water and they come running. Should've wiped them up a little first but peanut butter wipes off tub sides just fine. I tossed in bubble bath and gave them a quick wipe down before stripping them and helping them in. As they splashed away I cleaned the kitchen from food to dishes to table too chairs and even finished with laundry. By the time I came in (having checked on them occasionally, especially when they were quiet), the water was cold and she demanded I wash her hair. She didn't like it. Neither did he. Alas, it had to be done: Cheeseballs and peanut butter.
After drying off and cozying up for Totoro, I putzed around to finish anything I'd missed before Jesse got up. Really, I'm skipping all the major tantrums that plagued the day, but I must say it was a productive day for me. Tomorrow is Friday; I work all day. It's a nice break from home.
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