Three And a Half Weeks Later

Sometimes

Sometimes your kids will have to go to sleep late because the Cub Scout Pack Meeting starts at bedtime. And sometimes your kids will decide they don't want to sleep, even though it's late and they're clearly tired. And sometimes they'll keep each other awake until 11pm and then wake up the baby, who will then require an additional forty minutes to get back to sleep. And sometimes you'll be so exhausted from this sleep-deprivation-craziness that all you'll be able to write on your blog is that no one is getting enough sleep.

Sometimes.

A Little Light Reading

I love sunshine, even the cloudy sunshine that we get here. My kids must love it too, because the last few days they've insisted on staying up waaaay past bedtime to enjoy more of it, not that they're actually playing outside or anything. They simply won't go to sleep.

Tonight everyone had been quiet for some time and I thought maybe they had given in and gone to sleep. I knew Peter was awake and reading in the playroom, so I put a sleeping Sophie in her bed and checked on Cooper and Phoebe. I found Cooper in his bed, looking guilty and pulling his hand away from a book that was lying on the floor next to him. He was surprised that I knew he had been reading. When I looked in on Phoebe I saw she was in her bed. I also saw that she was wearing a crown and a necklace and waving a wand. And she complained that she just couldn't fall asleep. Shocking.

I removed the book and the accessories and told them to sleep. When I checked a few minutes later Phoebe had migrated to Cooper's room where he was reading to her. I put everyone back in their rightful place and went to pick up the happy, kicking, smiling, no-longer-sleeping Sophie from her bed. This was around 8:30, a mere hour and a half after bedtime. I had to go in again later to move Phoebe's books away from her bed and assure her that she could read them in the morning.

Maybe it's not sunshine but books that are keeping them awake.

Deer In the Headlights

Sophie doesn't like the flash on my camera. I have several pictures like this one that show what happens to her eyes when that flash goes off. I've been staring at this picture for some time, trying to decide if I was going to post it. 

See, I think it highlights her red lips and beautiful cheeks. And you can see her blue eyes. But, it's not the most flattering.

Dear Future Teenage Sophie,

I think this is a lovely picture of you. And I promise I won't submit it for a compilation of bad baby photos.

Love,

Mom

Somebody to Love

The Christmas that I was five my Grandma Bonnie and Great-Grandma (Granny) Lucy picked out Dr. Seuss themed stuffed animals for me and my brothers. Ian received Thidwick, Jordan got Horton, and I was given the Cat in the Hat. I loved that Cat. I snuggled him every night for many many years. He went to college with me. He now splits his time between the stuffed animal box in the boys' room and the one in Phoebe's room, but not much time in my room.

Sometimes the kids ask why I don't snuggle with my special stuffed animal anymore; I tell them that now I cuddle with their dad instead. They always think that's a funny answer. I just checked on Phoebe and tonight she chose Cat to keep her company. I'm glad, such an important childhood friend needs someone to love.

So Much to Say

Phoebe took a nap today, which meant she had trouble falling asleep tonight. She kept coming out of her room to talk to us. Finally, this exchange took place.

Me: Phoebe, you really have to go to bed!
Phoebe: But I just have so many things I need to tell you!

I'm glad she wants to talk to me, even if it makes bedtime a little tricky.

Evolving

This picture was taken about eight years ago. I've been thinking a lot lately about how I've changed over that time. In some ways I'm a very different mom, in other ways I'm the same.

May 2006, Annapolis, Maryland

I'm still just as neurotic about car seat safety and keeping choking and strangulation hazards far away. I guess my concerns about safety in general are still strong, and maybe stronger after watching my children do things that make my heart stop. I would still rather sit and hold my kids than handing them off to someone else. I still read to them and go on walks with them.

But I'm more laid back about other things. We're eating cereal for dinner? Cool. You can't find pajamas? Just wear what you can find. You want to throw a yelling/screaming/name-calling tantrum? Just go do it in your room and come join us when you're done, I've got too many other little people that need me to give my attention to that.

Most days I feel more capable. I remember feeling overwhelmed when Peter wouldn't nap and I was desperate for some downtime. Now if I get to sit and feed Sophie while Phoebe sits outside my bedroom tapping on my locked door, I consider it a restful quiet time. I'm much more tired, but able to go longer on less sleep. I don't wake up and think, "How on earth am I going to fill the day all the way 'til bedtime?" Instead I think, "Today is not nearly long enough to fit in everything we need to do."

There's a joke that says if evolution were real then moms would grow an additional arm each time she has a new child. That doesn't happen, but I do think our ability to juggle our responsibilities increases.

I Can't Right Now, I'm With a Book

Last night Peter asked me something completely shocking.

"How come I never see you and Dad read books?"

WHAT?!?

He followed it up with, "I see you read things on your phones, but not actual books. I mean, you read to us, but not your own books. And how can you stand it in your room? You only have one little bookcase and almost no books in there to read!"

I do read, I love to read, but it's mostly after the kids are in bed, simply because they don't let me read while they're awake. Someone always needs my attention. During daytime hours I listen to audio books on my phone, because then my eyes and hands can do mundane things like wash dishes or fold laundry while my brain is engaged in the book. And really, that's mostly just during quiet time because otherwise I'm listening to or interacting with a child. And Bryan is always listening to a book. He goes through audio books at a shockingly fast rate.

I told Peter that I sometimes read books on my phone, which he seemed to think was an acceptable answer. I also pointed out that most of my books are downstairs and that I purposely only keep a few books in my room at a time because if I can reach a book, I'll read it. That means I'm often in the middle of lots of books at once.

I feel rattled. It looks like I'm going to need to ignore my kids a little bit during the day so they can see me read books.

The Squeeky Wheel

Bryan worked from home on Friday so I seized my chance and went to the doctor. I had been sick for a solid two weeks and, based on the complete exhaustion I was feeling, thought my cold had turned into a sinus infection. I had waited an extra week before going to the doctor, just to see if it would go away on its own. It hadn't.

After waiting for almost an hour, I was seen by the doctor. He did a quick exam and told me I probably just had a virus.

I did not take that very well.

I looked at him and said, "You're kidding, right? This is not normal exhaustion. This is not even normal new-baby exhaustion." He told me that viruses and infections share many of the same symptoms and that they really didn't like to give antibiotics unless the were absolutely necessary. He offered me a breathing treatment (one of my big complaints was that I couldn't breathe) and told me to take allergy medicine and a pain reliever.

"Okay," I asked, "what happens if I'm still sick in a week? Do I have to come back in? Can I call and ask for medicine?" No, he assured me that he wouldn't remember me. Awesome.

I finally wore him down and he offered to prescribe me an antibiotic, just in case. He said if I wasn't better in five days then I should definitely take it. 

The next morning I woke up after a full night of sleep and felt like I should crawl right back into bed, so I took the medicine. And you know what? Within twenty-four hours I was feeling significantly better. Yesterday was better still and today I'm back to doing crazy things like cleaning my house and taking my kids to the park.

Funny how taking medicine when you really need it can help.

The Long and the Short Of It

Sophie has a lot of hair. Some of it is long, so long that when I pull it straight it touches her back. Most of the hair on top in the front is pretty short. Towards the back on top it's long and straight, but in front of her ears it's wavy/curly. And it's all wispy. In short, she looks like a homeless street urchin out of a Charles Dickens' novel, like she should be rubbing elbows with Pip or the Artful Dodger or some other child with no proper adult to care for their grooming.

I've spent time staring at her hair, trying to figure out what to do with it. Do I cut it? And if so, do I cut all of it or just trim the longest pieces? Do I adorn it with cute bows in it in an attempt to distract people from what's really going on with her mane? Do I brush it so it stands straight up at all times, because I can?

Since it's long on the sides, I was curious if I could get it into a ponytail. The result shows just how long her hair is.

And here it is from another angle.

Like I said, long and wispy. Maybe I'll approach it the same way I do the boys' hair: wash it, then leave it alone until we comb it for church on Sunday.

Kisses

Share and Share Alike

During lunch the other day the following conversation took place between me and Phoebe.

Phoebe: When I'm a mom I'm going to have a girl first.

Me: Oh? Why are you going to have a girl first? So she can be a helper like you're a helper?

Phoebe: Yes. I'm going to have a girl and then a boy and then a girl and then a boy and then a girl and then a boy and then a girl and then a boy and then a girl. Then I'll have a girl first and a girl last.

Me: Wow! That's nine kids. That's a pretty impressive number. Why do you want to have nine kids?

Phoebe: Because then they'll share.

Crunchy

I found a fantastic granola bar recipe! I am really excited about how these turned out. I used Pioneer Woman's recipe, with a few minor alterations.

• I didn't have any almonds and only a few pecans, so I used 1/4 cup pecans in place of the almonds and 1/2 cup walnuts instead of the pecans. 
• My molasses smelled terrible (it always smells terrible, but this was extra bad) and I didn't want to drag all the kids to the store for just one ingredient, so I used agave instead. 
• I don't think I used a whole cup of brown sugar. Yes, I did use some, but I use it so seldom that my supply has formed itself into a few large sugar rocks. I picked up the smallest rock and melted it down. It may have been about a cup, but I think it was smaller.

The kids love them. They're reminiscent of Nature Valley granola bars, but not quite that crunchy. The next batch I make will have some kind of fruit in it, maybe coconut and Crainsins. And I think I'll use coconut oil instead of canola.

Playing Is Hard Work

My Mother's Day

My favorite flowers and a book I had mentioned wanting to read, from Bryan:

A clay pendant with his thumb print on it, from Peter:

A plate with original artwork, from Cooper:

A sticker collage, from Phoebe:

Cards from Phoebe, Cooper, Peter, and Peter (yes, he made two):

And gifts made at church. Phoebe loves me because I say I love you and I'm pretty. She knows I cook and vacuum, and she's only thirty years off on my age. I'm afraid she and I have never watched Pocahontas together though. Wishful thinking on her part, perhaps?

My mom's name is: Margot
My mom's age is: 3 and 1/2
My mom's eyes are; green
When my mommy works, she: makes dinner
My mommy's hair is: brown
My favorite thing to do with my mommy is: vacuum
My mommy laughs when: funniness
My mom's favorite TV show is: Pocahontas
I love when my mom: she says I love you
My favorite thing my mommy cooks is: waffles
I really love my mommy because: she's so pretty

Peter has no idea what I do after he goes to sleep, but he got some of the other questions right. It looks like we need to find a new favorite thing to do together. It used to be reading, but he does that on his own now.

My mom loves to: sing
My mom's favorite food is: watermelon
Before bed every night, my mom: I have no idea
My mom works hard at: nowhere home
My mom's favorite place to go is: the Temple
My mom's favorite thing to do with me is: I have no idea

This is Phoebe's picture of her, a tree, and me, in that order.

And finally Cooper's drawing of me. I like that he included my favorite color.

How was your Mother's Day?

It Was Mom

To the special moms that have made me who I am so I can be the mom that Peter

and Cooper

and Phoebe

and Sophie need,

thank you.

Happy Mother's Day!

Still Trying to Be Clever

I'm finally working on turning my blog into a book using Blurb. I'm not sure I'll print with them, but I've been playing with their layout software. I've started all the way back at the beginning and am editing and formatting the posts from 2008. I only have a few minutes here and there to work on it, so it's slow going. A few things stand out to me as I reread these past writings.

Cooper and Sophie look a lot alike. A LOT. I already knew that, but it's interesting to see evidence.

It took me a while to find my voice. Those early posts read like I'm flinging information out into the void, not sure who will catch it or what my real purpose is. That's precisely what I was doing, and am still doing to an extent, but now I at least know who my main audience is: me. I write what I want to write to record what I want to remember. This often coincides with what the grandparents and aunts and uncles and friends want to read, but ultimately I write for myself.

Cooper was little when I started this blog, littler than Sophie is now. That means that many of my early blog posts center on the highly-verbal, incredibly-animated, two-year-old Peter. I was in awe of how cute and funny and precocious he was. He still does lots of the same things he did then. So at what point do cute and funny and precocious turn in to boastful and rude and argumentative, because we've crossed that line and I want to go back. Is it all in our perception of his behavior? Or were we such naive first-time parents that we didn't realize what his constant talking and reasoning and application of logic would turn into?

I used to link to a lot of outside articles. I would casually throw out a reference to something, link to it, but then not really explain it. Now I'm having to examine those posts and decide if I want to take the time to elaborate on what the link meant, or just delete it and move on.

I looked at the date of my first post: May 9, 2008. My blog turns six tomorrow! I feel like having a little celebration. That might seem silly, it is after all, only a blog. But because I've dedicated to posting something every weekday, I spend a lot of time staring at this particular screen, thinking about what to record, and then typing and deleting and typing some more. I stay up late (tonight I'm the last one awake) to make sure I keep this commitment.

I had no idea when I started this blog that I would be writing it six years later, long after the popularity of casual blogging has waned. Many people have now moved to Twitter or Instagram to share, and have let their blogs fall by the wayside. Or if they are still blogging, it's for profit at some well known blog. I'm sticking with this not-for-profit, can-only-find-it-if-you-already-have-the-address blog. As we move (which we seem to do a lot of these days) it's nice that my thoughts always have a home.

The Gallon Challenge

After a week of wearing a splint and sling, Peter now has a very hard accessory for his left arm. 

He chose red, of course.

He was concerned that the cast was wet and wouldn't provide adequate protection. The tech assured him that it would dry very quickly.

Bonus: Peter has a glow-in-the-dark stripe that winds all the way up his cast. His arm looks a lot like a candy cane.

I saw the x-ray of the break. I expected to see a crack, but it wasn't like that at all. Have you ever bent a thick branch? It's so solid that it doesn't really break, but it does bulge out at the sides a bit. That's kind of what happened to Peter's arm. It was really interesting to see.

We go back in four weeks to see how he's healing. Then, if everything looks good, he'll be in a brace for a week, then back to normal. Well, normal minus falling off the top of the monkey bars.

The doctor told Peter not to use the cast as a weapon or a tool (he must work with little boys often) and not to get it wet. The example the doctor used was, "It's okay if it gets a little wet, but don't let him shove it in the mud."

As we stood in the waiting room making his follow-up appointment, this last admonition was revisited. Peter quoted the doctor about mud and I said that meant not to get water on it. Then Peter asked, "So does that mean that I can pour a gallon of milk on it?"

No Peter, it really does not.

Grandma Great

Sophie and her siblings are lucky. They know three of their great-grandparents. I grew up knowing my great-grandma, my Granny, but I know most people don't. I love that my kids have that.

Bryan's grandma relished every opportunity she got to hold our sweet girl this weekend. Sophie is the fifth new baby on that side of the family born in 2013. The first is a grandchild, the other four are great-grandchildren. To date, Sophie is the youngest of their descendants.

Aggies

Every once in a while we decide to completely lose our minds and drive for two days, spend two days somewhere, then drive back for two days. Utah was lovely. Bryan's brother is now a college graduate. Sophie met her great-grandma and great -grandpa and several additional family members. And the big kids loved playing with cousins and friends.

We're now home. We're all exhausted. And the trip was totally worth it.

Word Man

Cooper loves workbooks. You know those thick, colorful ones that come from Costco and supposedly cover a whole year's worth of curriculum? They are his favorite. He finished his old kindergarten book one day during spring break and I promised him a first grade book to work on next.

Yesterday he was busily writing, polishing off the first and second sections in the new book. He turned to the new section, let out a contented sigh, and said, "I love vocabulary."

Me too, Cooper.

A Couple of Cute Cougars