Light Fixtures, Organization and Bebes!

This weekend was painfully productive. I am tired, but I feel empowered. I cleaned and organized and cooked and snuggled my babies and really felt connected to my life. Which is a thing I find myself lacking sometimes.

There are occasions, when I'm slogging through the day to day where I feel like life is something that is happening to me rather than a thing I am doing. I almost feel like a spectator watching from a theater wondering why the chick on screen can't seem to get her damn laundry under control, and why she continues to shove food in her face, and why can't she just relax enough to benefit from the obvious devotion of her husband. I'm mostly a mess.

I think I need weekends like this one to bust through that screen and be present. To start to teach my Sunshine how to sew, to sit still long enough for Doodle to fall asleep on me, to disconnect and talk with Banana about Ninja turtles and to start teaching Jammer how to feed himself.

I took them all to the grocery store by myself on Saturday, which is not a thing I do frequently, and while trolling down the aisle with my duck-ettes in tow I picked up a jar of Pickles and set it in the cart next to Doodle, who has to ride in the basket (because carts are not make for two babies, unless you are shopping at costco.) Not 2 minutes later I turn from the milk cooler to see the giant jar of pickles fly out of the cart and smash onto the floor of the store. The mess was epic and marvelous, and smelly. Pickles are great but you generally don't want to smell like them.

I could have ended the trip, but I was on store 2 of a three location campaign and I had crap to get done, so I sent Pumpkin for help, grabbed a new jar of pickles, moved the glass items beneath the cart and soldiered on. It was horribly embarrassing, I could just hear people thinking,
"Why can't that idiot control her toddler"
"Wasn't she watching him"
"What kind of dumb-ass puts glass in a cart with a two year old?"

I told the voices in my head to put a sock in it and went on to get yogurt, I didn't have time for self loathing and doubt and I wasn't going to ruin a perfectly good day over a two dollar jar of pickles.

Then yesterday I decided while the sun was still up, I was going to put in the two yard sale found light fixtures I had purchased in my room and the nursery. I looked up an instructional video on you tube and then installed two lights. Felt pretty good about myself, for a short period of time.

Then I started doing laundry and didn't stop until after 2am and I still have 6 baskets of clothing to put away, sweet mother of pearl we create a lit of laundry.

So here are some photos from the weekend. I love my babies

Banana and BayMax

Sunshine with her new quilt

Sleepy Doodle getting Mommy Snuggles

and Moose Snuggles

Jammer watching WonderPets

Lights! 

Songs for My Munchie-Girls

As a semi-conservative musically driven general mess of a person I enjoy losing myself in song. I listen to all genre's and decades. I enjoy Pink Floyd, Carole King, Megan Trainor and Randy Travis. I believe that all music has value and it is a beautiful outlet. My parents had eclectic music taste and I am so happy that I got all of the influences they gave me. I love covers, I love musicals, I love oldies, I love country, I just love it all. (Except Neil Diamond, dude, no)

Even the Pit Bull, Nikki Minaj, Justin Timberlake stuff has a place, that place is a club, where people who are old enough to manage their shit can decide if they want their ears assaulted with profanity and verbal pornography. Look, I'm not knocking it, I've wiggled my tush to that type of music on many occasions. But I feel like the radio has lost something as the club music makes it way onto the airways.

I am irritated by the musical offerings on the top 40 radio stations these days. When I listen to the radio in the car I want to sing along. I want deep lyrics and great accompaniment. I love to belt out Bohemian Rhapsody and Desperado and The Day The Music Dies. I don't want to talk in the car, I want to sing, all the way to where I am going.

My girls are old enough to recognize and ask about the words in songs and this has lead to some conversations I hadn't wanted to have at 8 and 6, and now it has lead to a concrete decision to avoid listening to those stations with my kiddos in the car.

Look, I'm not naive enough to think that they will stay little forever. I don't even really want that. The sarcastic sense of humor both of them have developed is the highlight of my life these days. I just want them to listen to music with positive messages because I recognize the effect it has on me and my outlook. When I listen to Firework, or Just the Way You Are, or Brave... it can change my day and make things a little better. I want that for them, to have a heart light enough that song can turn the tide of a rotten day.

Gift Woes

I am mostly broke, all the time. My new job, while lovely affords me precious little in the way of expandable income. and this makes Christmas scary for me. I had already decided not to try to craft my way through Christmas this year. It's a lot of work and after almost 11 hours of work(plus driving), 6 hours of sleep and 2 hours of arguing about bedtime, I don't get much quality time with my munches. I don't want their memories to be, "Mom always made us cool stuff, but man was she in a bad mood at Christmas every year."

I've convinced Jeeves to work with me on scaling down Christmas this year and allowing the blessings of our extended family to rain all over our children and let our gifts to them be more economical and meaningful.

He's on board but I still anticipate being humbled by his generosity with gifting things to me at Christmas. He seems to think I'm lying when I tell him I don't want much. This poses an issue when I don't get much for him. Because I think I've gotten him to agree that we are going to not get much for each other and then he breaks the deal. I desperately want to not spend Christmas morning feeling guilty for my lack of gift expertise.

I don't actually have a direction here, this was just weighing on my mind today.
Happy November All.

October is My Favorite Color

Ladies and Gents,
breathe deep....

It's decorative gourd season
It's chilly night season
It's harvest flavored coffee season
It's Chili season
It's extra layer season
It's falling leaves
It's apple picking
It's Pumpkin Patches
and costumes
and dark mornings
and boots
and candy
and all of my favorite things.

It's October and I'm in love with October.

So enjoy the fall while it lasts, wherever you are.

I miss writing and hope to rediscover my muse, but she remains sleepy and uninspired.

Jammer turned 1 on Monday and as I reflect on the last year I am reminded that even in the face of crazy life non-sense I can find countless moments of joy and the ever present peace of god's love for me. I am a blessed woman and I am happy.

Type Soon....I promise.

Fatty Fat Fatterson

Dude,

I went to the doctor last week and I have hit the top again. 227!!!

It's disheartening and frustrating and also I hate that I let it bug me so much. I am more comfortable now in my skin than I have been at any other point in my life. But when I look at myself in the mirror I don't see the funny, smart, kind, faithful person I am. I see a big ass. and big thighs, and a slight gut, and bad posture, and hair I don't have time to deal with.

So, as with most things in life, this makes me reflective.

I think back to being in high school and college and thinking that I needed to cover all that up with more clothes. That it couldn't possibly be sexy, why would anyone want to be with me. I remember wishing I had to confidence to wear the clothes the other people around me were wearing (but remember this was the late 90's, I'm now glad no one has pictures of me in any of those things, good lord)

I think ahead, at what it might do to my daughters if I get down on my body and my appearance. Do you know what they say? They tell me I'm beautiful, when I'm in a good mood they tell me how much they love my smile and "happy voice" With minimal effort I get little hands cupping my face telling me I'm the most beautiful mommy ever. They only see the good now, how might my insecurities tarnish that? Probably a lot.

In the movie plot of my life, this is the point where I drive in the slowly fading sunset and listen to grungy 90's music and stare contemplatively into the distance thinking about the next steps.

so, yeah, gonna go do that now.

You've changed.

When you are pregnant and thinking of the months ahead when you will have a floppy, giggly, screamy bundle of baby you are not thinking of the years ahead. At least I wasn't. In my head, children did this magical turn from toddler to adult. I would have lots of snuggles and hugs and dirty diapers and then I would have a 21st birthday party and start thinking about grand babies.

The interim escaped my focus until it hit me square in the chin last weekend. I have an 8 year old. She's sarcastic and kind and emotional and not at all like the coffee slurping young adult I was picturing 9 years ago when I thought about being a Mommy. I was ill prepared for having to teach someone how to keep them self busy, how easy it is to hurt someone's feelings, how to wash their own hair, why it is important to use toilet paper (gross).

It's becoming more and more obvious as the years gain momentum that they ways that being a mother changes you are not easy to describe. That's probably why I haven't read a book about it yet. I think it's because no one can wrap words around what happens. You have a baby, who becomes a person, and the person they will become fundamentally affects the person you are turning into.

Before I became a parent I spoke differently, hypocrisy; while not ideal, was not as obvious because I didn't have a loud mouthed sidekick with no filter. I could snark all day long and never wonder that my words might get transmitted in the worst way possible to the object of my tirade. Now when I serve them veggies and spend my night downing Doritos, I usually see an inquisitive pair of blue eyes asking why I can eat straight from the bag but she has to get a bowl and stay in the kitchen.

I am humbled by the task I have been assigned. Being half responsible for teaching 4 other people how to move about in the world is a job that should come with some pre-requisites. I mean one could design a course requirement outline for parenting. It would involve:
Philosophy (Mommy why is Blue)
Sociology (Mommy why are people mean to each other?)
Accounting (How do I feed 6 people on this salary)
Biology (mommy where do babies come from)
Chemistry (Why tin foil should not go in the microwave)
Literature (put down the game and read a book for Gods sake)
English (WTF is not a sentence, use real words)
Fundamentals of Nutrition (Ninja Turtle fruit snacks are not an appropriate dinner option)
Communication (speak well, speak up, and remember that your is not the only opinion)
Pre-med (it's a mild fever, you are not going to die)

But beyond that there are so many things that just cannot be taught. Mom's have this magic look that can stop shenanigans in thier tracks. We can manage to fit things to care for 4 people into one bag and actually have everything we need. We can grocery shop with children.

So yes, I have changed. I am not the same Nellie I was 10 years ago, but I like this honest, capable, loving version of myself.

Running Toward Toddler

Sidebar: Did you ever have a blog post idea that seemed super profound and like it would be a work of literary awesome only to then fall back asleep and completely forget what the topic was, but remember how epic it would have been? No? me neither (cursing quietly)

My little dude is nearly ten months old. He is a grinning, soggy, smiling little butter ball. He loves it when I sing and dance with him. He wants to have bites of whatever I am eating. He believes that my actual full time job is to hold him whenever we are in the same room. He learned how to do kisses this week.

And he is walking.

let me just let that sink in.

My last baby, the one who will be "the baby" has decided that he is done with crawling and tries to walk everywhere. He looks like an orangutan, he walks with his arms in the air and he is really unsteady, but he's not even 10 months old yet. Dude, could you just calm down. I don't get to do this again. You are the last one! I need to saok up every bit of baby you have to give. My mommy heart can't handle your headlong rush toward toddler-hood.