I am well protected from the monsters...

So, my very sweet, shy and cautious boy has never wanted to dress up for Halloween.  He doesn't want to go Trick or Treating, he's very skeptical of Halloween generally.  But two years ago (this would be 2014 now) he wanted to go to the Trunk or Treat festivities at church, but he didn't want to dress up.  So Chris and I packed up Cameron and Lilu and they had fun going from trunk to trunk, but they skipped the scary ones.

Then last year (2015) he asked me (about 2 weeks before Halloween), "Mommy, I think I want to dress up this year."  And I fought the urge to lay my head down and CRY.  Seriously?  I've had 7 years of EASY Halloweens, and this year, THIS year that Daddy is in med school and Mommy is drowning, THIS year is the year you want to dress up?!  But I was very grown up about it, I said, "Really?  What do you want to dress up as?"  And he thought for a moment and said, "Percy Jackson." 

We had read the Percy Jackson books for bed time reading the year that we studied Ancient History because he was completely obsessed with Greek Mythology, and he especially enjoyed the stories about Poseidon.  So I thought, "Well, it could have been worse."  So I started to think about what we could do for a costume that would require minimal creativity and monetary expense.  And because Lilu MUST do everything that Cameron does, it immediately escalated into "I want to be ANNABETH!"

After a few hours of searching on the internet, I came up with a plan that I liked well enough.  I ordered Camp Half-Blood t-shirts from Etsy, and I bought the stuff to make them bead necklaces.  Chris watched a tutorial on how to make a wooden sword and we got to work.  I painted the beads to match the descriptions in the books, and once Chris had shaped and sanded the swords down, I painted them in the garage (in the aptly named Antique Bronze).  When the day of the Halloween Carnival arrived, I thought they looked pretty awesome (for a totally apathetic mother)!

They look pretty happy, right?  Let me tell you, tooling around with two kids armed with wooden swords makes you feel pretty safe...

Look at how ferocious they are!  I can't imagine where they could have learned THAT. 



But this picture is probably my favorite.  It totally sums up this child's role in our family:

She makes us all laugh.  When we're stressed out and overwhelmed, when everyone is tired and fractious and impatient, Lilu pulls a mug like this or says something odd and goofy and gets us all laughing again.  She does her fair share of crazy-making, but she does MORE than her fair share of happy-making too.

Chris gets a New Coat

So at the start of every school year, the new crop of med students participates in what's known as a White Coat Ceremony.  They go up on a stage, group by group, and they are presented with their White Coat, the outward symbol that they're a med student.  It's a really cool ceremony, actually, because it celebrates their potential.  And it's a time for family and friends to gather and cheer on their med student.

So last year (that would be August 2014, if you're having trouble keeping up), Chris had read about it and thought it was the coolest thing ever.  So when he found out that he'd been accepted, he called his parents to invite them up and told them that this was a big deal and he would really appreciate it if they could be there.  As it turned out, his Mom was traveling that weekend and couldn't be there, and his Dad was non-committal.  So I braced him up as best I could and promised that the kids and I would be there with bells on to cheer him on.

So a week before the ceremony, his sister and I were texting back and forth and she asked when the ceremony was and for more information generally, so I gave it to her, but thought nothing else.  I just figured that she would call or text the day of, because she's very thoughtful that way.    A few days after this exchange (Wednesday before the ceremony to be precise) she called me and said that she and Dad (and maybe Chris's brothers) wanted to try to come up on Sunday, but wanted it kept as a surprise just in case they couldn't make it, so would I help them?  And I said, "Heck yeah, and nothing easier since Chris is never around!"  So we started plotting.

I planned a BIG family dinner for Sunday, to celebrate Christopher (of course), we made  a traditional NC barbecue and all the sides.  Chris said, "Isn't this kind of a lot of food?"  To which I replied, "It's a lot of people, and also shut up, it's delicious."  He had no argument for that.  I sent his sister details on when to show up and where to park and made sure that we would park in the same parking deck so that Chris could see his family BEFORE the ceremony.

So the day arrives and he and I are both a jumble of nerves, though for very different reasons.  We left Church a bit early so that we could make it to the ceremony on time.  At the last minute, Chris decided that we would drive together and then, THEN he tried to change where we were going to park.  And to that I refused in Diva like fashion.  He looked at me funny, but then headed for the parking deck.

As we drove up the road towards the deck, I looked up and saw his family (all but his Mom) standing on the second level watching for us and I pointed them out and said, "Who are those crazy people?"  He glanced up and said, "I don't know...WAIT!  WHAT?!"  And I started to laugh because the look on his face was PRICELESS and then he started to tear up and laugh all at the same time and he said, "Did you do this?!"  And I said, "Your sister and I make a MAD team!"  He was so touched that they drove all the way up here just to be with him to celebrate.

There were hugs all around and exclamations and lots of pounding on the backs and the kids were squealing with delight and jumping up and down because they got to see Paw-Paw AND Jenji AND Mike and Rusty AND Daddy all in the same wonderful day!  My father in law was thoroughly impressed with my secret keeping skills and Chris really was knocked off his feet.  I don't think I stopped grinning until we got our seats and got settled.

At which point Maggie decided that she had had ENOUGH.  Enough of dresses, enough being quiet, enough sitting still, enough not napping, enough enough ENOUGH.  So I took her out and tried to nurse her to quiet her down and tried to rock her and cuddle her, and she would calm down for a few minutes.  Long enough for us to go inside and see where they were in the program, and then it was more screaming and more out in the hallway.  I went back and forth with her until it was time for Chris's group to go up.

Then I handed her off to Mike and I took the big kids down to edge of the mezzanine to see their Daddy.  (Lilu had been crying for him basically since we sat down.  I think she thought he'd be sitting with us.)  So they saw him walk onto the stage and Lilu chirps up, "Hi Daddy!"  And I started to giggle because (of course) it echoed through the whole theater!  So then they call student by student and one of the faculty puts the coat on the student, and Chris was the second one, so they call his name and both kids shout "YAY DADDY!!"  And the whole theater erupts in cheers and applause, and that right there is where I lost it and started to cry and cry.

Because here's the thing.  Chris has wanted to be a doctor his whole life.  It's the only thing he's ever really wanted to do.  And not because he likes the lifestyle or wants to show off and drive a fancy car or anything, but because he likes to help people.  And when he didn't get in (years ago, when we were fresh out of undergrad), we talked about different career paths where he could still help people, but it just wasn't what he really wanted to do.  He tried different paths and different jobs, but he was never happy, and I think it was because he only ever wanted to be a doctor.  And here he was, getting his white coat at long last.  He had worked so hard and here was his dream of what he wanted to do and to be and he had made that happen.  I could not have been prouder of him than I was in that moment.

(Oh, and when I turned around to take the big kids back to their seats, Maggie was sound asleep on Uncle Mike's shoulder.  I should have handed her off an hour ago!)

So we sat through the rest of the ceremony, and then joined the masses to try to find Christopher.  We met up and went to shake hands with a few faculty members, and everywhere we went, Chris was greeted with cries of "YAY DADDY!"  by his classmates.  It was sweet and endearing and so many people told us what a great moment it was.  And it was a great moment, but for more reasons than just the kids.

We took some pictures (Jenn's turned out MUCH better than mine), and then headed back to the house where we were met by my parents and Sherry and Jeff and my nephew Joshua.  We ate and talked and laughed and had a wonderful time together.  And Chris looked at me and said, "This is why you made so much food!"  And I said, "Yes!"  He was still completely surprised and it was thoroughly fun to tell the story over and over and over again.

(BIG thanks to Jenn for taking such great pictures!)

Med School Begins

So August saw the start of Chris's med school adventure.

In short.  It sucked.

He was in class for nearly 8 hours every day, and he had signed up for the Spanish language program (extracurricular, mind you), so he would be gone for 3 days every week without seeing the kids AT ALL.  So my entire August experience can be summed up in 2 words only:  Meltdown City.

Think I'm exaggerating?  Being melodramatic?  Yeah, I took pictures...

It took me the better part of the month to figure out that the kids have only ever known Daddy on Demand--essentially, they got to have him whenever they wanted, as long as he wasn't working.  So the very act of going days and days and not seeing Daddy at all was like the end of the world as they knew it.

It was just a hard month.  But, as I tell my kids nearly every day, we can do hard things.  And we learned...we learned how to do school and work and take care of each other without Daddy.  Meanwhile his heart was breaking because he just wasn't physically able to do it ALL.

Suffice it to say, it was a miserable month, but we learned a lot.  So that was good!

My Mountains

Rather a possessive title, no?  I love mountains.  Give me mountains and you'll find me in a perfect state of happiness.  I love the jagged edges, the abrupt beginnings and endings, I love trees and rocks and rivers that run through them.  So when Chris suggested that we spend a week camping in the mountains (July 2015) I jumped at the chance.  I knew it would be tricky with the 3 kids, but even if you do nothing at all in the mountains, it's my happy place.

So we loaded up the kids and the dog and headed West.

Chris's Mom keeps a trailer over in the mountains west of Asheville, so that's where we stayed.  It was hot over there, but who cares?  You're in the mountains!  We settled in and the kids had to share a sleeping space, which they weren't wild about, and Chris and I shared our sleeping space with still, very wee Maggie.  It was cozy...or would have been if it hadn't been 90 degrees every single day.

Still we hiked, and may I just say?  Cameron blew me AWAY.  He was a champion.  He hiked the whole length of the upper and lower falls of the Yellowstone river, and didn't complain, not once.  I think he rather enjoyed himself because the trail offered lots of variation.  Sometimes it was an easy boardwalk, sometimes it was a smooth dirt path, and other times, it was a stone staircase carved into the mountain itself.  Lilu rode in the backpack with Chris, and Maggie was in the sling with me.

Highlight of the trip?  We got to the top and stopped to snack before heading back down the trail, and Maggie started to fuss, so I loosened the sling and latched her on and we continued hiking, Chris turned around and saw me and said, "We can stop!"  And I said, "Naw, I'm good, I'm a Mama and a canteen!  Life is good!"  Though, some of the other hikers looked at me a little strangely.  I just smiled and said, "I love my little ones!" 

Other highlight?  Chris NOT careening over the edge of the precipice with our middle child.  So we were headed down said trail (this was before the breastfeeding) and Chris stepped down wrong and his ankle turned, his knee buckled and Lilu is heavy enough that the forward momentum pushed them both down.  The edge of the trail was only 12 inches from the side of the mountain, so I immediately thought they were going right over the edge.  But he stopped them and then hobbled back down the trail on a completely sprained and quickly swelling ankle. 

Kids best highlight?  The s'mores in the rain!  We had promised them s'mores.  REAL s'mores, over a FIRE s'mores.  So even though it rained every night, Chris dutifully built a fire, with lovely oak wood, and we roasted marshmallow after marshmallow after marshmallow until the kids were so sticky that no amount of wiping would clean them EVER.  So we took them in the showers and hosed them off before putting them to bed.  That was really fun.

Snow...week

Two winters in a row!  What will I do with myself? 

You all know how I love snow, and winter, and all things COLD.  And yet, I live in the South.  I live in the South because I love beyond all reason a deeply southern man.  A man who is so much a part of the south, he may as well be one of those ancient, gnarled old oak trees that are covered with Spanish moss.  So North Carolina is our compromise.  I couldn't live anywhere further south because I would melt in the heat, and he probably couldn't live anywhere further north because the frozen depths of winter would probably kill his soul.

So the last two winters where we've gotten actual SNOW have been positively delightful.  Of course, snow is a lot more fun when you aren't hugely pregnant, but who's complaining?  The kids had a BLAST, and the fact that Chris stayed home from work (there was a car skidded out and blocking the exit to our little neighborhood, so no one could get in or out) and played with them just made it all the better.

Get this...the three of them built their first ever snowman.  My 35 year old husband had never built a snowman before.  It might have been the sweetest thing I'd seen for quite some time.

 

We shall not discuss the laundry...

3 Years with my Girl

My darling daughter turned 3 this year.

I really wondered if we would survive her second year.  I also wondered if I would be sending her off to college still in diapers because she was...shall we say, RELUCTANT to potty train.  (She's far too busy to stop for the nonsense of using the toilet, especially when she's wearing a super absorbent, oh so soft, cloth diaper.)

Fortunately, we did survive her second year, and she did eventually see the value of using the toilet.  If you're wondering what did the trick, it was lollypops.  Turns out, she'll do anything in the world for a lollypop, which, if you're her mother, is really good to know.

Life with her continues to be hilariously funny, most of the time.  Her motto is still Go Big or Go HOME.  She either loves you or hates you.  Actually, that's not entirely true, she either loves your or doesn't have the time or energy to care about you at all.  She has her Nana and Popper absolutely wrapped around her little finger. And from what I witnessed at Thanksgiving, I suspect that she has her Mee-Maw and Aunt Jen-ji wrapped around the other little finger.  She totally charmed them in a matter of minutes, it was comical and endearing all at the same time.

In anticipation of her being a Big Sister, she's transitioned into a proper bed and a booster seat instead of a car seat.  It's still strange for me to see her looking so...well, Big.  She's a proper little girl, not a baby at all.

(My beloved laptop was dying a lingering death, and so we replaced her, but I don't have the software I used for my slideshows anymore, so here's a quick collection of my favorite pics from the last year with my Girl.)

(I'm still trying to figure out the new machine...I'm not sure I like it.)

 

 

Christmas Day

Ordinarily, I LOVE Christmas.  I love the lights, the carols, I love the food, I love my little family, I love the tree, I love trying to create this sense of wonder and magic for my kids.

That wonder and magic is a lot easier when you aren't on an Impossible Budget.  In years past, I generally start setting aside small amounts of money to fund Christmas in September, so that by December, we have a modest, but fun Christmas and I don't have to sweat my January bills, but this year...oh this year...It's been an expensive year.  What with buying a house, and Chris retaking the MCAT, and then med school applications and then secondary applications...it was just a really, REALLY expensive year.  So my Christmas budget was...well, non-existent.

And once you're sucked into that particular vortex of worry, it's pretty hard to feel excited about Christmas at all.

And the sad thing is, the money stuff wasn't the only vortex of worry that Chris and I had been sucked into.  We were worried about getting into med school and really worried about t'other Baby Girl.

(This pregnancy has been riddled with fear, anxiety and worry for me and for Chris.  All along it's felt too good to be true, and so we've both been waiting for the axe to drop, for something to happen to her or to me, which translates to a lot of worry and not much sleep.)

Anyway, so I was trying to cobble together a Christmas to the best of my abilities, without caring about it very much.  I was so tired that I just wanted to cancel the whole thing and crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and come out when it was over.  But my sweet children woke me up every day asking, "How many days until Christmas, Mama?"  And their little faces were so full of excitement and wonder, how do you extinguish that with your own selfish desire to call off the whole affair?

I did my best, my parents gifted us with a new and PRE-LIT Christmas tree this year, so we set that up before we left for Savannah for Thanksgiving.  That way we could come home to something cheerful and beautiful.  I put together a frugal, but hopefully fun array of gifts for the kids.  My parents were a little unhinged playing Santa for the kids, and thoroughly enjoyed getting to see their faces as they came downstairs on Christmas morning.  I baked up some cinnamon rolls, and once the presents were opened and the kids were happily playing with their new toys, Chris and I crashed on the couch and totally fell asleep.

It really was a magical day, but I was still really happy when it was over.

What we did with our Summer Vacation

Hello.

Is anyone still out there? 

I know it's been quite some time since I updated, but I think when you read everything that's happened, you'll understand why the blog was relegated beyond the back burner, beyond the stove, and out to the deep freeze of things on my priority list.

As you know, our lease ended at the end of May.  We house-sat for some friends of ours for 2 weeks in their beautiful home, the kids had a BALL playing with their kids' toys.  After that, we stayed with my sister for a week and then out to my parent's house for 2 more weeks while they were out in Utah visiting my lovely sister.  I posted pictures of my kids strip mining my Mom's berry bushes and playing in the hose.

All the time we were house hunting.  Or rather, I was house hunting.  Chris has been studying to retake the MCAT.  He's taking it tomorrow afternoon and reapplying for med school.  We'll see if we go.  I'm cautiously optimistic.

So I was trying to find us a place to live.  It was pretty stressful.  Housing is fairly expensive in Durham, but I wanted to plan as though he was already in med school, so I didn't want to be too far away.  On July 1st we looked at 3 bedroom townhouse just down the street from our old apartment.  It's a small, quiet community and it had everything on our wishlist except a yard.  Which I was willing to sacrifice to stay in the same general area of town we had lived in before.  So on July 2nd we put in an offer.  There was some dickering back and forth, which I am NOT good at, nor patient with and hadn't anticipated being in charge of, but when I say Chris spent the summer studying for the MCAT, I mean he completely checked out of everything else (except work) and focused on relearning everything he used to know 7 years ago.  Anyway, on July 3rd we reached a deal and started the whole Mortgage nightmare.

I would just like to go on the record as saying that having a BABY is less painful than buying a HOUSE.  And the mortgage company we're using, they are charming and absolutely bent over backwards to help us and to make the process smooth, but it was still an arduous experience.

Luckily for me, I started working out seriously in April and kept it up until we moved, it was a fantastic stress relief.  I lost 25 pounds, y'all.  I was quite proud of myself, and then...

I spent 2 weeks gathering up 98 pieces of paper and delivering them to the mortgage company and writing checks.  Finally, FINALLY everything on our end was done.  Our closing date was set, my amazing sister, who let us live in her house rent free for the month of July, kept the kids so Chris and I could go sign a novella of papers and take possession of 6 keys and a garage door opener.

5 days before we closed, we found out that we were pregnant.  Crazy, huh? 

So we moved in on August 2nd.  Chris continued to study and I slowly unpacked.  The kids ran around the basement which is our school room/play room and rediscovered all of their toys declaring that they had MISSED them so much and everything, absolutely everything was their FAVORITE.  It was pretty funny.  I put my kitchen in order and went back to cooking fairly regularly.  The kids are in separate rooms, which is GREAT for me.  They're still having a hard time at night, I think because it's dark and the dark makes them nervous.  Chris' stuff is still in boxes, and the boxes are neatly stacked in the rooms they belong in.  He told me today that he would unpack next week, and I laughed and said I was willing to bet money that the boxes would still be there next summer.

The Boy and I started back to school this week and it's been a long week.  Our school day is much longer, and I'm not sure if it's just because we've added material or that we've been out of the routine all summer long.

But my favorite memories of this summer all involve watching my kids play in the Eno river and hike together.  The Boy was particularly amazing, even when he was tired, and the Girl was DONE, he would hug her and say, "Come on, Lilu, we can do hard things!  And we can play in the river when we're done!"  It was the sweetest thing.  And they both walked into that river up to their necks (fully clothed), and I'm sure that there are parents out there who would cry NEGLECT because I let them do it.  But childhood is hard enough without asking kids to pass by a river and a muddy bank on a hot summer's day.  We shall not discuss the Laundry.  Both kids fell in the Eno river multiple times this summer, it was both terrifying and comical.  And everyone is still alive.

My Boy shrieked with joy at the fireworks on the 4th of July, but my Girl hated them.  They're both still missing their cousins and periodically declare that they want to go back to Aunt Sherry's to live with their cousins.  But one morning this week, the Boy declared that the townhouse is "starting to feel more like home, Mama."

Which I'm taking as a good sign.

So what did you do on your Summer vacation?

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July, y'all.

The excitement was just too much for some of us. 

You will note, that there are no pictures of my Boy.  That is because he was running up and down the middle of my sister's street with sparklers like a crazed Independence day fool.

Clearly, the excitement was not too much for him.

Summer

"While you were so busy whispering, we have concocted a plan!"
"It is the BEST plan in the world!"
"I shall convey you all to my house in Chelsea and we shall taste the delights of the season!"

Mrs. Jennings, Sense & Sensibility

 

For a little Boy, there are few pleasures in life sweeter than playing in the hose fully clothed.

My Girl has a more discerning palate, she prefers ripe berries warmed by the summer sun. 

After playing in the hose, that is.

Girl-ease

My Girl speaks her own language.  Of course, she THINKS she's speaking beautiful English, and most of the time I don't even think about it, because I understand her perfectly.  It's only when Chris is home that I realize that I have developed the gift of Interpretation of Tongues as her mother.  She speaks and Chris looks at me and I repeat what she said in proper English and then Chris whispers, "How did you get THAT?!"  And I shrug and go on with whatever I'm working on.

For Example, Chris is cuddling and reading with the Girl right now.  They are reading Poppleton.  The Girl is cuddled up with her pink blanket and her Mabel bear.  In between books, the Girl hugged her blanket and said, "My BACON."  And Chris said, "Your blanket?"  And she said, "Yes.  Aunt Gi-Gi make my Bacon!"  Then Chris looks at me and said, "What?!"  And I said, "Aunt Sherry made her blanket." 

And that's when we started cracking up laughing. 


We are hunting and hoping to have an update for you by next week.  In the meantime, I'm reading Poppleton and knitting a lot.

Snow Days

I took some pictures of what Snow Days look like when you home school.

The Girl has been sick all week, so she was stuck inside while Chris and the Boy went out to play.  And since she was so sad that she was missing out, her Daddy made it snow again, just for her.  (How's that for love?)

One of the nice things about the South is that snow is such an inconsistent occurance that when it happens, we really, REALLY love it.  Don't believe me?

Look at that face.  That is the joy of childhood right there.  He played until his hands were bright pink with the cold, he literally rolled and wallowed in the snow like a dog.  In fact, he did BETTER than the dog...

She just got a snowy face.  The Boy was snowy from head to toes!

Mabel Bear

My babies each have a bear and a blanket.  I didn't set out to have them love both, I fully intended that they would have a blanket they love, but the bears were adopted by the children themselves.

As you'll remember, my Boy loves his Monte bear.  And my Girl became obsessed with Monte fairly early on.  So in order to prevent mayhem, I encouraged the Boy to give the Girl her very own bear.  He went through all of the Softies and chose a small, white bear, which he promptly handed over and the Girl promptly became obsessed with.

From the time when she was very small, she's carried Mabel with her everywhere she goes.  (In addition to her pink blanket.)  But now that she's so busy, she's realized that she needs her hands for other (more interesting) things.  Being a clever girl, she's come up with an appropriate solution:

 

One Tough Cookie

I made cookies yesterday.  Plain, normal cookies. Chocolate peanut butter chip, in case you were wondering.

How excited were the kids that I made cookies?  VERY.

Chris took the Girl out to run some errands while I finished schooling with the Boy and baked a pan of cookies.  They were literally just out of the oven when Chris and our overly eager daughter got home.  As in, the cookies were still on the pan, hot from the oven.

My Girl smelled the cookies as soon as she walked through the door and ran toward the kitchen singing, "KA-COO! KA-COO!  KA-COO!"  Which is how she says "cookie." 

I was chatting with Chris when I heard a surprised yelp and turned to see my Girl next to the hot pan and a look of surprise on her face.  I said, "Did you touch the pan?"  She nodded, looking at the offensive object.  I said, "Did you get burned?"  She nodded again and came to me for a hug and a kiss.  Which I obliged.

And since she didn't cry or make a fuss, I assumed it was just the tiniest of touches.  I was wrong.  I was getting her ready for bed, when I saw this:

It actually doesn't look as bad in the photograph as it does on her skin.  It's all red and there's a blister in the middle of it.

What amazed me was that she cried not at all. 

She's my kid that never slows down, rarely cries when she's hurt, and doesn't let a failure or an injury stand in her way. 


She's also the kid that I've named each and every one of my gray hairs after.  And the number of those gray hairs is increasing at an alarming rate.

Two Years In

Today is my Girl's second Birthday.

In keeping with tradition, I told her the story of her birth.  About how scared Mama was and everything that happened.  She stared at me with big eyes and a slightly furrowed brow.  Probably because she only understood about half the words.  But, and this moment captures the essence of her nature, when I finished I picked her up and she looked me in the face, laid her head on my shoulder and patted my back with her tiny little hands.  She is so quick to comfort, and she doesn't need to understand what's wrong, she just loves.  And I look at her and think, "I could learn how to be more like that."

I know that I'm her mother and therefore not an objective source, but she is one of the most interesting people I've ever met.  She speaks only in exclamation marks and often prefers the sound effect to the actual word.  She's funny and adventurous and clever.  For someone with relatively no sense of fear, she is incredibly empathetic to others who are scared.  She either LOVES you, or she doesn't have the time of day for you.  But where she loves, she loves BIG.  In fact, Go Big or Go Home might just sum up daily life with this little one.

The Girl's Second Year from M.

My Shadow

I like that my children like me.

Seems strange, I know, most mothers seem really excited when their kids go their own way and do their own thing.  And I think it's fine when my kids do that.  I remind myself that I gave them life because I want them to live it, but I still miss them when they're off doing their own thing.

I worked really hard when they were babies to get them to like me.  I nursed them and carried them all the time.  I don't play toys with my kids, but if they bring me a book (and I can), I stop whatever I'm doing and read to them.  I never refuse to cuddle them or hug them or kiss them.  I sing to them whatever they ask for, whenever they ask for it.  I periodically sit and eat cookies with them at 10 o'clock in the morning, just for fun and because I can.  We go out behind our apartment and run and chase and play every afternoon, just for fun and because we can.  I pull the futon mattress down onto the living room floor and we have pillow fights and wrestle and play.

So I like that they like me.

To say nothing of the fact, that sights like these crack me up:

Outside

I was doing my normal weekly clean-laundry-put-crap-away routine, when I noticed that the kids were both in their room. 

So I stood outside the shut door and listened.

I could hear them both playing (together!) and laughing (at the same time!) and having a great time in general.

I wanted so badly to go in and watch them, or even better, to be part of it.  But then I had this realization.



Inside that room is their own world.  It belongs to them.  And as the Mom, I don't have any part of it.  Outside of that room there are rules and routine and discipline and order and structure, and that's the world that I am a part of.  I knew that if I were to go in there, even just to watch them play, that the dynamic would change. 

I can't tell you how sad it made me.  I cried telling Chris about it later on.  I just wanted to see them having fun together.  But I made myself go back to work, back to making lunches and putting the apartment in order.  Because even though it made me sad, it's exactly what I wanted.  I wanted to be able to give my Boy a sibling to grow up with, to play with and love and be friends with.  And I can't help but feel that in order for that to really happen, I just have to get out of the way.

At least some of the time...

Warm and Happy

May I just say, I love antibiotics.  I especially love it when they give me my healthy children back.  I don't think they're a cure all for everything, but when you have a pesky infection, they're sheer brilliance.  And thanks to that magical pink goo, my Girl is back to playing and reading and wreaking havoc, so I've been able to catch up on some of the stuff that was neglected while my attention was turned where it was most needed.

Meanwhile, the weather has cooled off, necessitating the emergence of my Girl's sweater.  And since I didn't take pictures of it back in June when I finished it, I thought I would show you just how darling it is.

 Nice of Molly to photo-bomb my Girl, wasn't it.

It's really hard to get a decent picture of this girl.  

Even when she's sitting still, she's still moving, so everything is blurry!

It's simple and plain, which suits my Girl just perfectly.  Furthermore, it was easy and decidedly relaxing, which is how it came to be the sweater that launched the Red Sweater.  I can't tell you how satisfying it is to be able to pull out seasonal, hand made pieces of clothing for my kids.  

I watched this wonderful documentary on the golden age of British knitting, and one of the things they said was that you always know where you are with knitting.  They said it's safe, secure, protective, methodical, but at the same time creative.  I whole-heartedly agree.  

It also keeps everyone warm.  And that makes me happy.

Better and Better

You know what's even MORE awesome than 2 straight weeks of sick?


A Girl with double ear infections.


The really sad part?  I had no clue.  None.  She woke up Tuesday morning at 6am absolutely inconsolable.  I tried everything to calm her down, but to no avail.  I assumed she was just being a pill and went about my day.  She was feverish and listless all afternoon, so I was worried that she was getting sick again, but I didn't think she was sick STILL.

Tuesday afternoon was bad enough that I called and made a doctor's appointment for her.

Tuesday night was HORRIBLE.  She would sleep for a couple of hours, then wake up drenched in sweat and screaming hysterically.  I would dose her with Tylenol, then it was just lather rinse repeat.  All night long.

At 3am, I was at my wits end.  So she and I laid out on the couch for a couple of hours until I realized that neither of us were comfortable and moved us to Bed Sweet Bed.  By 7am, it became apparent that she had no intention of going back to sleep.  And by that point, I was just DONE.  

Done with being screamed at.
Done with not knowing what was wrong.
Done with not being able to fix the problem.
Done with having a hot brick of a child hanging around my neck.
Done with everyone in my house being sleep deprived and grouchy.  Done.  Done.  Done.

But short of running away from home, what can you do?  Nothing.  So I got up and made breakfast.  (Chris very wisely called out of work for the day, I think he sensed that my sanity was on the VERGE.)

Everyone got dressed and we watched some Mormon Messages on youtube because that was right about our energy level.  Then headed to the doctor's office.

Our pediatrician?  Yeah, he's so awesome he basically diagnosed her without touching her.  (Which is convenient since she hates him with the fire of a thousand suns.)  He eventually checked her lungs, nose, throat and ears (it took all three of us to hold her down so that he could take a peek--I'm not exaggerating about the intensity of her loathing of a very nice doctor), confirmed what he already knew and emailed the prescription in to the pharmacy.

We left and headed to the pharmacy and I was relieved but also feeling vaguely monstrous.

I just had no idea that she had an ear infection, much less TWO.  I just thought she was being a diva because she didn't sleep well for whatever reason.  I thought she just woke up grouchy (she's done that before).  She wasn't pulling at her ears or indicating that she was in pain in any way.  Granted she was crying, but she's a toddler, she cries over nothing with alarming regularity.  Consequently, I hadn't been anywhere near compassionate in my treatment of her.  I had not been sympathetic, I hadn't even been very patient.  But once I understood what was wrong, suddenly, I understood why she had been behaving the way she was behaving.

And then I started to just feel stupid.  STUPID.  What is wrong with me?  I am a rational adult.  Why didn't it even occur to me that she had an ear infection or that something was seriously wrong?   I told my sister later on, that I have never felt so woefully unqualified for my daily work on such a regular basis, as I do now that I mother.  I never know what the right thing to do is.  I don't instinctively know what's wrong with my kids.  I can't read minds or hearts.  I need WORDS.

And words with my Girl are thin on the ground.

And so we arrive at the middle of the week and I have not schooled with my Boy the way that I should have, or normally would.  I have not done my church work (that I still really need to do).  I have not been down to visit my Grandma. 

So if you'll all excuse me for the next few days, I have a sick girl who wants to wallow me.  

What happens...

We spent 4 out of 5 Saturdays in September running around, down to see my parents and Grandmother, or running errands etc.  So when I told the kids last week that we were spending a Saturday at home, in our pajamas and just relaxing, this is what happened...

We love our family, and I think it's good for the kids to see that Love means Sacrifice.  But it was really fun to just have a day to be home.