On reading, making it through and Downton Abbey

Our days are a flurry of repetitious, usually wonderful, sometimes stressful, almost always loud and busy series of events.

He has been in Texas all this time: first to San Antonio, then to Austin, back to San Antonio.  He was supposed to be home for all of 22 hours - which I was really, REALLY looking forward to! - but, because DC was in the path of the great snowpocalypse 2016, his flight was rerouted and he bypassed Colorado.  Presumably to make it there before DC became entombed and Andrew Lincoln commenced riding a horse down the deserted streets of the Capitol.

It was a little ridiculous how very disappointed I was, considering it was only 22 hours at home.  Still, that would have been my husband's first hours at home in 2016.

The kids and I have fallen back into our usual routine:

5:30 - Mom wakes up

5:30-6:15 - Exercise and Bible study

6:30 - kids wake up

7:00 - breakfast

7:30 - get dressed and make beds

8:00-11:30 - School 

12:00 - lunch and play time

1:00-3:00 Nap (aka mom's chore time) 

3:00-5:00 - afternoon activities

5:00 - Make dinner and helper jobs

5:30 - Eat dinner

6:30 - baths and get ready for bed

7:00 - Livvy to bed, kids read or watch a show

7-7:30 - big kid night time routine and to bed

8:00 until quarter past forever - Mom cleans up, folds laundry, tidies, finishes jobs, preps for tomorrow and maybe gets some quiet TV or reading time.  Maybe.  (But probably not.)

The two big ones are doing swim lessons twice a week, and Leah is getting ready to start piano lessons at the beginning of February.  We also have CC every Monday from 9-12, and when you add in play dates, field trips, library visits, church, grocery shopping, doctor's visits and errand running, it's more than enough to keep us hopping.  

I have decided that 2:30 is tea time in our house.  Possibly because I've been watching too much Downton Abbey, but also because I desperately wanted a dedicated, relaxing, set apart time each and every day for me to rest.  

{See?  I'm really trying to make sure I schedule that in!}

Each day, I prepare my tea and a scone and settle in for thirty solid minutes of quiet reading.  It's heaven in the middle of my busy day.  If there are dirty dishes, they stay dirty.  If there are piles of half-folded laundry, it remains half-folded.  

That thirty minutes is my gift to myself.  

I'm also trying (hard.  And most often unsuccessfully) to get myself in bed at 9:00 to read, pray and wind down from the day.  I have such a difficult time sleeping when Casey is gone; I'm on extra-heightened alert all the time.  I hear each tiny whimper the kids make through the night.  I interpret every perfectly normal middle of the night noise as cause for serious alarm.  So going to bed is a legitimate challenge for me, but also incredibly necessary for sanity and patience and not losing my every loving mind purposes.  

Back in December, Casey and I made up our minds to quit Facebook and social media.  It has been such a blessing!  And frankly, I'm amazed at how much time it allows me to reclaim.  It's embarrassing, really.  

I've made it through five of the books on my 2016 list (and it's still January!  Score!): The Martian, Educating the Whole Hearted Child, Things You Won't Say, The Daily Five and One Thousand Gifts.  

The Martian was my favorite by a long shot.  And Matt Damon was adorable in the movie adaptation, which I watched one night having ordered myself Chinese take-out after the kids went to bed.  To eat All. By. Myself. {which, in case it was in question, is a ridiculous luxury.}

See?  Look at that awesome self care I'm practicing!

Sundays are my favorite, though.  I've given myself permission to let go of my usual evening routine - which, more often than not consists of chores, meal planning or prep, school planning or prep and a basket of laundry - and actually be in bed at 9 with the added bonus of Ben and Jerry's so that I can watch Downton Abbey.  It's my very favorite, the only show I consistently want to watch every single week, and it's the very last season.  

Plus, every now and again it strikes me that in my own home, I perform every single function of the entire cast of characters in Downton Abbey.  Hopefully with at least one tenth of the witty repartee.  

So January has been swallowed up in a fast-moving haze of motion and activity.  I'm blessed beyond measure that we usually do just fine on our own, even though it can be difficult and exhausting.  My kids are awesome, so helpful, and typically easy to manage.  I truly enjoy being their momma.  

And, with a little more emphasis on taking care of myself, the on and on-ness of it all is pretty manageable.  Of course... we're only three and a half weeks in. 

There's still time!

Books to read in 2016

"Commit your work to the Lord and your plans will be established." Proverbs 16: 3

One of my most important reflections about the last year has been in the area of self care.

Which, if I'm being honest, is an area of my life that is not only lacking, but that I totally and completely suck at.  You know when you look at before and after photos of our Presidents?

Yeah.  Sometimes I feel a little like that when I see myself in recent years.  I'm looking and feeling much more on the after side of things than any person should - and I don't get to tap out after 8 years.

So, in the spirit of doing a better job of taking care of myself - since, let's be honest, retiring to Hawaii to make a million dollars per speaking engagement and enjoying lifetime salary and health care are not on the agenda - I have made a commitment that is absolutely huge for me: getting back to my once-upon-a-time English-major-roots by reading.

Not just a little, either.  I've decided to read 25 books this year - 25 books that are for me.  That I desire to read for one reason or another.  Because it's fun.  And because I matter!

If you are a seasoned reader, 25 books in a year probably doesn't seem like much to you.  For me, though, to actually commit and take the time to read a book - let alone 25 - is a huge, giant, gargantuan step.  Big.  Think King Kong climbing the Empire State Building.  There is a good chance that reading 25 books of my choosing for my pleasure may be more than I've read in the six and a half years since I got pregnant with Leah.

No joke.

So, mostly for the record, but also in case anyone else loves to read and is interested, here are the books I'm going to tackle. In absolutely no particular order, except that in which my library can get these holds in for me:

1. Future Men by Doug Wilson
2. God Rest Ye Merry by Doug Wilson
3. My Life for Yours by Doug Wilson
4. One Thousand Gifts by Anne Voskamp 
5. Messy Church by Ross Parsley 
6. Searching for Sanity by Lindsey Bell
7. Strong and Kind by Korie Robertson
8. The Life Giving Home by Sally Clarkson
9. The Martian by Andy Weir 
10. God Help the Child by Toni Morrison 
11. Paper Towns by John Green 
12. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel 
13. Dark Places by Gillian Flynn 
14. Things You Won't Say by Sarah Pekkanen  
15. Beautiful Womanhood by Sandy Ralya
16. Be Still my Soul by Elisabeth Elliot 
17. Busy Homeschool Mom's Guide to Daylight by Heidi St. John
18. Educating the Whole Hearted Child by Clay and Sally Clarkson 
19. Mom Needs Chocolate by Debora M. Coty
20. Soundbites from Heaven by Rachel Carman
21. The Daily Five by Gail Boushey
22. Five Love Languages of Children by Gary Chapman
23. Learning to Read: Lessons from Exemplary 1st Grade Classrooms by Richard Allington
24. Own Your Life by Sally Clarkson
25. Interrupted by Jen Hatmaker 

John 10:10, My purpose is to give life in all its fullness.

Wish me luck... I'm going for it!

A very long stretch

Today begins perhaps the longest stretch of time apart we've had since Casey began this new endeavor.  Between September 26th and December 6th, he will have a total of only 15 or 16 days at home, depending on whether he flies home for Thanksgiving.  Yowza.  

To be fair, he also took the better part of five weeks off with us after Olivia's birth - though to be completely fair, he has never before taken more than one or two days off for the births of our babies, so it was long overdue.  

I'm trying hard to be happy for him, to remain optimistic that being at home for... well, let's just call it the foreseeable future alone with three small children isn't a little intimidating.  

I'm trying to remember that it's a blessing.  I've been praying over his work situation, that he would make progress with new clients and that the Lord would bless him in all he does. 

I'm trying to remember that he is one devoted husband, father and provider, and that being the sole income for a family of five is no easy task.  

But, seriously?  When I think about the ratio of days he'll be gone to the number of days his children will get to see him, I have to shudder a little.  And even more than that, when I think about what he's going to miss from this little lady...

Well, I'm trying not to think about it too much.  It hurts my heart a little.  

So, since she won't look a thing like this by the time he gets home, a little photo montage of our sweet gal.

I love this one.  The world is SO BIG!!!  But look at that head control, miss only four weeks old!

I love this one, too!  Leah never fit into this hat... in the few weeks it took for her head to be stable enough to put this hat on her, she completely outgrew it.

We're gonna miss you, Daddy!!

Life update and photo dump

Well, the title of today's blog post might be a wee bit misleading, what with the implying that I have actual photos to dump.

It's a little like those paranormal shows (which may or may not be a guilty pleasure of mine, on account of their total ridiculosity and nonsense-itasticness.  #what?itsaword!) when they're all like ooooh, ahhh, a noise in the dark! and somehow the only possible conclusion is that it is obvious evidence of a ghost or bigfoot or whatever they happen to be "hunting."  Um, sure, because... if you declare something with such enthusiasm, it must be true, right?  Regardless of pesky little ideas like facts, truth or evidence.

Totally.

So, without regard to any of the above mentioned, I declare: HUGE PHOTO DUMP TODAY!  Come one, come all and see what we've been up to for the last six weeks or so!

First up: Easter.  We did it.  We were down a daddy since he was (predictably) working.  So there wasn't much fanfare or taking of pictures, but we did the Easter baskets.  We did the dressing up thing, we listened to an awesome message at church.  We brunched and hunted for eggs. All in all... huge success!

Though, the Easter bunny did not bring us pants...

Still a no on the pants front.

First haircut.  The verdict?  He hated it.

Our little "before."  I love that he was in need of a haircut at 20 months.  Leah didn't get her first hair cut until she was three and a half.

Those eyes just say it all.

And then this happened...  

 ...and then this happened, and even the lolly pop wasn't enough to save the day.

But it turned out alright in the end.  My cute little grown up guy!

Summer is here.  It's been pretty warm, and the kids have been itching to get outside.

So we bought a sandbox.  And Mommy put it together - that's right!  And lugged all 100 lbs of sand (and waited for Daddy to lug the other 100 lbs) to fill it with!  All before being warned not to lift anything over 5 pounds, of course...

This is how we roll in the summer.  And yes, we are desperately working on getting the back yard up to snuff.  So far... well, we're getting there.

Glenwood Springs.  We went with some of our best friends and had an absolute blast swimming in the hot springs and exploring the mountains.  Here are the only pictures I took:

It should be noted that all four, soon to be five, children are exactly 15 months apart.  Except Logan and Lauren, who are only 9 months because some people jump the gun...

And there we have it!  All the notable moments I've captured in photos over the last nearly 2 months.  I'm obviously not doing such a great job on the picture front, but everybody is still getting fed, showered and loved so that's a win in my book.  Maybe after the baby is born we'll try again.

Confessions of a weary Christmas slacker

Anybody else find the whole calendar situation extra maddening this year?  I know, there's something about Thanksgiving always being on the fourth Thursday of November because of the blah-I-wasn't-listening-when-History-Channel-covered-that-yadda Christmas shopping season.  But, people, three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas... what's up with that?

Okay, I hear you.  It's possible that I'm just trying to easy my less than enthusiastic guilt over being kinda sorta totally ready for the holiday season to be over.

I was diggin' it at Halloween.  It was just too much fun.

There were pumpkins and spider webs and creepy lawns.  We tricked and treated and did the monster mash.

I think it was sometime in November that I fell off the holiday bandwagon.  All those burlap fumes got to my head.

Confession #1:  I took the equivalent of zero photos in December.  Let's just take a little looksy at the old photo totals, shall we?

Winter 2011: 327 photos
Winter 2012: 451 photos
Winter 2013: 174 photos

Maybe there's a lesson here about quality over quantity?  That's probably the moral of this tale.  It's not really about being an unmotivated slacker.

Did you hear the trumpets singing that sad song?  Like a game show contestant who gets the wrong answer... wah wah wah waaaaahhh.

I might add that this is the entire total of photos taken so far this season, not the ones I've carefully sorted through and can't live without.  Yes, it is probably sad that I can't live without 451 photos from last year, but let's be honest, it's costing me nothing besides computer space.  Someday someone will love those seemingly ordinary moments of our kids' lives, even if it's just me from the nursing home, okay?  Don't be such a Judgey Judgerson, let's focus on the suckitude that is my current situation.

Confession #2: We only did the essentials.

We saw Santa.  We baked cookies.  We looked for Ellie all over the house.  The Christmas cards made it to the mailboxes of loved ones.  We drove around in our jammies, hopped up on hot cocoa to look at Christmas lights.  Presents were wrapped the night before.  We hosted Christmas dinner which I procrastinated and very nearly didn't finish in time.

I had good intentions, and that all counts for something.  The execution of all those intentions just didn't quite come together the way they have in years past.  It was a wonderful season, and we are so, so beyond lucky.  And also?  I'm exhausted.

Confession #3: None of that really mattered when push came to shove.

It took us three hours to open presents, decked out in our messy bed-head hair with Santa jammies.  The kids opened a present, insisted on playing with it for 20 minutes before finally consenting to opening another present and lather, rinse, repeat.  It was awesome.

The Christmas music was cranked up and Casey and I both drank multiple cups of coffee from my fancy, brand-new Keurig (BEST!PRESENT!EVER!) before we finally sat down for breakfast, only to come back to another round of merry toy-playing in our messy, wrapping-covered living room.

Being a slacker meant nothing at the end of the day.

Casey enjoyed his leaf blower.  Leah enjoyed her princess castle, on which Santa delivered as requested.  Both kids loved the new train table that is currently replacing our coffee table in the living room.  {It's an experiment in social deviance and mom's patience... we'll see if I last until Valentine's day.}

And, best of all... we got another little Christmas surprise, though this one didn't ever make it under the Christmas tree.  I'll let the cookies do the talking.

Artwork credit: Casey.  I'm not taking the blame for that one...

The only thing that could make the Keurig come in second in my eyes.  And, FYI: if you send this picture electronically to your mom in an attempt to tell her your really big news, she will compliment you halfheartedly and ask why you made such a fuss about sending her pictures of cookies without realizing their importance.  So just in case you fall into that category, too, beloved reader, let me close instead with this image:

As my sister would say, we have some very grateful uteruses in our family.  :)

Hoping your holiday was every ounce as joyful as ours - though, perhaps, full of fewer surprises!

{And, if you please, we're not ready to announce the news on Facebook, though I *think* we're largely out of the miscarriage woods.  We'd love to hear from you and appreciate all well-wishes, but not for the world to see... yet!}

Life lessons and a side of fries

The story starts with me not being able to sleep.

For reasons I'll tell you about tomorrow, I went to bed at 1, woke up at 3 with a big girl in distress because she couldn't find her water, then again at 4 with my Iwannanurse! screamer.  I got suckered in at 4 a.m. - no doubt in part because I hadn't had any sleep - and mistook his regular screaming for an actual emergency.  Then, since I'd gone in, he was reallymad because I wouldn't nurse him and so he screamed inconsolably for like an hour and a half.  Poor little guy. 

{Yeah, I kinda blew that one.}

And that was how day six of single parenting began.

Fast forward a few hours.  We're out running errands.  I'm hefting my wiggly 20 pounder while trying to simultaneously not give him brain damage by dropping him on his head and hold the hand of a girl who is alternately skipping and then slowing down until I'm practically dragging her.  All while also trying to avoid traffic and not drop the groceries.  Think Frogger with a few more complications. 

By the time I get the car loaded with kids and bags, all our tummies are rumbling and the thought of making lunch, then putting kids to bed, then cleaning up the mess from lunch seems really overwhelming. 

When I don't sleep, sometimes facing the day feels a little like that Greek myth about the king who had to push a massive boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down and start all over. 

So I did what any good mom would do in my shoes: we spotted the Golden Arches.  Air conditioning, a play place, clean up as simple as dump it in the trash.  Sign me up!

One of the only places to sit was in a booth behind a guy working on his laptop.  Which of course made me cringe because we're about as far from a "conducive work environment" as humanly possible, unless you're accustomed to working in the middle of a verbal tornado.  Or a maybe a lab that declaws cats.

We had lunch, Leah had a great time playing in the play place.  I even splurged and got everybody icecream, which isn't my usual MO.  (Future children take note: tired mom is super cool!)  We'd done a pretty good job.  Nobody killed anybody, I'd managed to save my sanity for the moment, and I was fairly sure we had only disturbed laptop guy a handful of times.  At least, he hadn't given us any dirty looks or packed up and moved as I'd anticipated he might. 

As I stood up, wrestling Logan, Sassy and helping Leah jump down from her seat, laptop guy turned around. 

"Ma'am, can I just tell you..."

Eeeeek.  I gulped and my heart sank a little.  An apology stood ready on my lips.

"...listening to you parent your children was the best part of my day.  You are a really great mom.  You handle them both with such gentleness and love, I hope that someday I'll find a woman who will be such a caring mother." 

My mouth kinda hung open and my eyes got teary.  I'm sure that if he'd anticipated my over-emotional response, he would have reconsidered his compliment.  I managed to mumble my thankyous without hugging and kissing him like I felt that I could. 

This happens to me a lot.  A lot.  And almost always when I'm at the end of my rope and need to hear it most of all.  I don't know who these angels are out there, but I am so grateful that they speak up.  I'll never be able to convey just how grateful I am for their kind and reaffirming words, which, as moms, we all desperately need to hear. 

That saying we used to have in elementary school, the one about how sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me?  Yeah, I don't agree with that at all.   Words are life itself.

And sometimes, when they come from unexpected places, they are just what you needed to keep on keepin' on. 

Date night, mommy style

**I'm a week late in posting this, but I know you'll forgive me when you hear the deets. 

So we've been a man down here recently.  Casey was gone 27 out of 34 days - which is a lot when you're still nursing, washing diapers, making baby food, napping ever two hours (that would be the babe.  I should be so lucky), working full time and trying to run an entire household, all while being outnumbered 2:1. 

My big girl needed something fun to occupy her time. 

I mean, we did have the toilet paper in the sink episode.  And all the chucking stuff in random places.  And the pooping in the bathtub incident. 

So we were in desperate need of something that would remind us both how much we like each other and why we get along. 

Enter: the sleepover.

The plan?  Have icecream sandwiches, eat popcorn in bed, watch Cars and fall asleep in Mommy's bed.  It was date night, Mommy-style. 

And it was a huge hit. 

Like, mind-blowing.  The little girl absolutely could not stop talking about the idea of eating popcorn in bed.  And she loooooved getting to sleep in Mommy's bed. 

She's pretty sweet, that big girl of mine.  And she has just the best heart of anyone I've ever met.  It's nice to be reminded, amidst the challenges of being a tiny person with a big vocabulary and big wants and desires, just how much I do love that sweet little thing. 

No pictures were snapped because, well, aparantly I just don't do that these days.  But we had a ball.  I highly recommend having a sleepover with the little loved one(s) in your life.

The One with the Cheeseburger Theory

I love and adore my children. 

But I'm not so good at the whole not sleeping thing. 

I mean, if you count the whole going 9 months without once getting 8 hours of sleep thing as being "good at not sleeping," then I guess you've got me.  Months one and two post-Logan were doable.  But I'm rapidly running out of sanity on my continuing diet of 2 hours or less at a time.

Case and point?

On Friday, I sent the following e-mail about a student's reading test results:

He defintly needs phonics.  Struggles wth advanced voules and sometimes makes up letters that aren't there.  Comprehension does the same.

 

I recieved the following e-mail in return:

 

Everything okay with you?

 

Um... would you be referring to the fact that my specialty is Language Arts, I was ironically giving a reading test and my own e-mail reads like a Who's Who of bad grammar and spelling?

 

Have I mentioned that my family has been sick?  Casey brought it home to all of us on Monday.  Tuesday night, Leah was up all night coughing and Weds the doc confirmed it as croup.  Logan didn't get it until this weekend.  Thanks to a combination of $75 worth of vitamins and sheer dumb luck, I haven't had it yet. 

 

But I'm running on empty.  My well wasn't exactly deep to begin with, and caring for three sick-ies hasn't been the easiest of tasks.

 

So, to frame the crazy e-mail story, let's just put it in perspective.  Here's what my Thursday night looked like (after having already pulled solo-middle-of-the-night duty the previous two nights):

 

7:00 - fed a baby and put him to bed.

9:30 - Baby wakes up, Mommy feeds him.

10:00 - Mommy goes to bed.

12:00 - Baby wakes up.  Mommy wakes, cries (yep, that happened) and can't get up, so Daddy goes in to put him back to bed.

2:00 - Daddy goes in again.

2:30 - Daddy putting him to bed didn't take, Mommy goes in and feeds him.

3:00 - Big Sister wakes up, Mommy goes in.

3:30 - Baby wakes up, Mommy puts him back to bed.

4:30 - Big Sis up again, Mommy goes in.

5:00 - Alarm goes off.  Mommy seriously contemplates putting the pillow over her head and screaming.

 

Oh, this tired is on a whole new level. 

 

Logan was getting better at the concept of sleeping longer than two hours.  Casey began trying to help sleep train him after Christmas, and since then, there have been three nights when he slept the better part of the night.  Once, I got six hours.  In a row, I might add.  Another time I got 8 whole hours (and the light of heaven shown down and the angels sang) in 3 and 5 hour spurts.  It was glorious. 

 

Without Casey, though, the whole thing doesn't really work. I can't sleep train him, because when I go in it just reminds him that he'd really like to use me as a human pacifier. 

 

It's the Cheeseburger Theory. 

 

If you woke up in the middle of the night, hungry for a cheeseburger, and someone came in and held one in front of your face without letting you eat it, you'd be pretty ticked off too.  That's when the screaming really kicks into high gear (the baby, just in case that was unclear).

 

So, sometime in the foreseeable future, we'll get back to it.  In the mean time, I'm just trying to get through. 

 

Somehow, I don't think my CSAP scores will be topping the district this year...