So, yes.  We're adjusting around here.

Emmy has morphed into this little girl, who is unwaveringly adorable in almost every way.  There are the moments, of course, when she stands on the kitchen table and takes all the lids off the markers, but mostly, I can't get enough of her.  There are only two ways in which I really see a difference between a girl toddler and a boy toddler (assuming Emmy is like all girls, and my boys are like all boys, which of course is a pretty broad assumption):  1.  She is the first one of my children to fall, realize she is fine, stand up, look for me, then cry about falling down, and 2.  When she cries, she "talks" the whole time.  "Mamaaaa" so pitifully, followed by very poignant babbling that is most certainly describing her woes.  Talking through it, as it were.  It's really cute.

And I am adjusting to being pregnant.  Last time, I feel like I put my energy into the wrong things.  I tried to keep up my pre-pregnancy pace, and felt increasingly frustrated with myself for "failing," and with my kids for, well, needing me when I was so indescribably tired (from trying to keep up my pre-pregnancy pace).  This time around, I am trying to lean into the temporary weakness of pregnancy, and just relax a bit.  I am focusing on prioritizing, and nurturing my relationships with my family first.  Everything beyond that is negotiable.  I am also trying to pace myself, and recognize fatigue before it becomes overwhelming.  If I need to sit down, I do.

All of that means that I'm spending more time in my favorite chair - talking or reading with the kids, or just sitting sometimes while they play around me.  Just because they are occupied does not mean I have to go do something else.  We may go to the pool and the library one day, but not leave the house the next.  I am avoiding errands at all costs (how much energy do we usually spend in the car and the grocery store?!  Brian has completely picked up the slack in this area).  And my favorite time of day has become early afternoons - not because I can get things done while everyone naps, but because I stretch out with the boys and watch a half hour of a Disney movie while Silas drifts off to sleep.

It all sounds peaceful on paper.  Sometimes it is.  And sometimes, Emmy stands on the kitchen table and takes all the lids off the markers.  Sometimes the boys love to sit beside me while I rest, and sometimes Silas says, "Mo-om!  Pause your computer and get my drink!"  And it goes without saying that it looks as though the Lost Boys have invaded my house.  But I feel better, mentally and physically, than I did the last go round.  So far, anyway.  And despite the potential for chaos, the tone around here is mostly relaxed.

If I have to choose between a peaceful house and a clean one, I'll go with peace.

Good night.

a few things i love

1.  Emmy toddling around the house singing, "GI Joe!"

2.  Emmy, again, calling for her brothers.  Today Asher went around the corner at the pool (with his mother's permission) and Emmy put her little hand to her mouth, then called, "Aaaa-sher!"  The word sounds nothing at all like his name but the inflection is spot on.  So cute.

3.  Silas, preaching a cautionary tale from the back seat today. "Mom, if you get a Buzz (Lightyear) in your house, you better be careful.  Because he will come to life, and everyone will like him better.  And then Woody will push him out of the window.  And they won't be friends until they have to leave the scary house."  Love that boy. Love love love him.  If there are any Buzzes living in your house, beware.

4.  At the library today, of his own volition, Asher walked up to the circulation desk and said, "Excuse me, ma'am?  Do you have any books about GI Joe?" (are you picking up on a theme in our house these days?).  The librarian led him to the right place, and he thanked her and picked out his book.  I love how precocious he is.  I love his confidence.

5.  Crystal Light Peach Tea.  I am trying to stay hydrated these days (when am I not trying to stay hydrated, really?), and I'm so burned out on glass after glass (after glass) of water.  Crystal Light's peach tea is saving my life, or at least my energy.

6.  So far, I love summer.  My kids just started their summer break, and we are all making the transition to a new schedule (so many transitions around here).  I am sure there will be moments when I miss preschool, but most of the time, I really enjoy having them at home.  I am enjoying finding a new rhythm to our mornings, and spending more relaxed time together.  Plus, I haven't made a single peanut butter and jelly sandwich at 7 a.m. in DAYS.

#3

Here is the truth about third babies.  They just have more freedom than previous toddlers ever did. I knew every move baby Asher ever made.  I knew what room he was in at all times, and what he was doing there.  Even with Silas - if I had to step away from him, he sat in his high chair watching Dora and holding his beloved sippy cup.  I may not have followed him around, but I always knew what he was doing.

Emmy girl?  Has a little too much freedom.

I never once had to fish my toothbrush out of the toilet with the other two because they didn't have access to step stools in bathrooms, unless I was standing with them, washing their hands.  The cement steps that cause me to hold my breath every time she perches on the edge?  They were never, ever on those steps without me.  The other day Emmy accompanied Silas and me to a party at a roller rink.  I looked up and saw my sweet girl standing INSIDE a ski ball game.  Have mercy.

It's not that she's "bad" or "good", it's just that I was doing something else.   And our family is making the adjustment to "active screaming toddler" and "mama is pregnant" at the same time.  Which, really, is its own post.  I mostly wanted to tell the wide world that my little Emmy is not out of control, nor is she "bad" - she's just ... roaming.

Happy Mother's Day, all.

priceless

They were sent outside to scrub the sand and water table. It's much more fun to scrub each other.

Also, a toddler's best moments are usually spent just this way. Seated in a cardboard "jet," surrounded by plastic eggs, contemplating lids.

news

My problems began in early March.

I decided to try my hand at running.  An athlete I am not, but I am a reasonably active person who needed to lose my last ten pounds of baby weight.  And have you ever seen a flabby runner?  Me neither.  Several nights a week, before bed, I would lay out my running clothes and shoes and set my alarm.  I would wake up every morning before dawn, stretch, and hit the pavement.

It was the most miserable experience of my life.

No, really.  Childbirth has nothing on my attempts at running.  I just couldn't breathe.  Day after day I would pick a fixed point as my target ("I'm going to run to the next stop sign," "I know I can make it to that car down the street") and invariably, I would make it less than a hundred yards before I would be forced to slow to a walk, gasping for the next quarter mile before repeating the whole wretched cycle.

Three weeks I did this.  And after three weeks - hand to God - I still could not go farther than a hundred yards.  Truthfully, a hundred yards is a generous estimation.  It was incredibly frustrating.

Then, I began having hot flashes.  Also?  I was getting a little pudgy around the middle.  I wasn't eating any differently, I was killing myself trying to run, and I don't typically gain weight in my gut anyway.  What the heck was going on with my body?

I couldn't possibly be pregnant.  In fact, my body confirmed (twice!) that I wasn't pregnant.  So I decided my hormones must be off.  Or maybe I had a vitamin deficiency?  I made an appointment with my OB, expecting blood work and a recommendation for a supplement of some kind.

In the meantime, I did what any self-respecting mother of many small children would do:  I bought some spanx.

My appointment was a few weeks away, of course, and my problems were not getting any better.  In fact, by the day of my appointment, I could barely button my pants, and I couldn't exercise at all anymore without feeling exhausted and weak.  Needless to say, I'd had it with my body.

I walked into the OB's office frustrated with my body.  An hour later I saw a little foot kick on an ultrasound screen.

It was astounding.

The technician and I both laughed out loud.  "Are you SERIOUS?"  I squawked.  "You really didn't know?" she said.  "This is your fourth baby, and you really didn't have any idea?"  Not a clue.  I wasn't just pregnant, I was 10 WEEKS pregnant.  Almost through the first trimester.  The ultrasound showed a baby - an actual baby.  All of this time that I'd been complaining and sucking in, a little life had begun.  Completely under the radar.

When I came home I peeled off the spanx and looked at my profile in the bathroom mirror.  How had I missed this?  I took this picture the next day.

It's not just a river in Egypt, friends.

Happy Sunday.

true story

5:46 p.m.
Dinner is on the table, featuring salmon (a treat in our family) with a new marinade.
Asher:  Mom!  I love this salmon!  I like the new sauce!
Silas:  Me too!  It's yummy.
5:48 p.m.
Asher:  I want to eat this sauce every time.
Silas:  Mm-hmm.
5:53 p.m.
Me:  Boys, why aren't you eating your salmon?
Asher:  I don't really like that new sauce, Mom.  It's kind of gross.
Silas:  Me neither.  It's too yucky.

Little kids are so weird.

My mom told me I should write a parenting column.  I am no where near qualified to hand out advice on parenting, as anyone who has watched me chasing my toddler recently will testify.  However, I started thinking about how a few key ideas have shaped our days significantly.  I thought I would share them here.  From me to you, completely free and worth every penny.  But they have changed my life, and made my time at home with young children much more pleasant.  Maybe they will make your day a little easier, too.

1.  Keeping the train on the track.

Picture me, chasing baby Asher (who was not much older than Emmy is now, actually), recovering from a c-section, and neck deep into life with a very restless, uncomfortable infant.  I was in way over my head, and my house was a wreck.  About this time I realized that a "clean house" - that moment when every surface is scrubbed, every floor mopped, every toy in its place - was not going to happen again for a long, long time.  At the same time, we couldn't just live in squalor for the next eighteen years.  I stopped seeing "clean" as a pass/fail grade (that I was always failing), and I began to see my house as a means to an end.  There were messes that were unsightly (blocks on the playroom floor, for example) but not really problematic, and there were messes that actually kept us from functioning at our best.  Keeping dishes and laundry available was necessary for daily life.  For me, personally, having common areas that are functional is also necessary.  If I am tripping over toys to get to the couch,  our living room really isn't functional for the adults who live here, and I am going to be a much more disgruntled mother.  But the rest isn't nearly as important as I think it is.  When housework was no longer a project to be completed (that was never, ever going to be complete) but a matter of processing materials in order to keep our home functional, I could find satisfaction in a folded load of towels without despairing over the tile in the back bathroom.  It was the difference between feeling as though I were constantly failing versus mostly succeeding in my daily life.  It sounds small now, but at the time, it was huge.

2.  We are a team.

Maybe this is going to be controversial?  Maybe you guys will disagree with me?  But in our house, by and large, we don't have individual toys.  We have family toys.  There are a precious few exceptions (sleeping blankets, for example, are personal property.  At Christmas, each boy's very favorite toy became his personal property, and his brother had to ask permission before he could play with it).  Otherwise, it's all fair game.  Blocks, baby dolls, superheroes, costumes, markers, books - they belong to us, collectively.  "Mine!" does not apply in our house.  It's not yours; it's your family's.  You may have a turn, and in a minute, it will be your brother's turn.

In the same vein, we rise and fall together.  If one brother is melting down and refusing to put on his seatbelt, the car won't start and nobody can leave.  If Emmy is stealing her brother's cup (as she is wont to do), it is the offended brother's job to help her find her own.  The newest example:  if a child runs out of food at the table, and wants seconds, he can wait until an adult has eaten something and is ready to get up again to give him more.  It isn't just about YOUR dinner - it's about OUR dinner.  We are all in this together.   We talk a lot about team work and cooperation, and thinking about what other people need, not just what each individual wants.

I don't think I realized until recently how much this idea permeates our family's culture.   My kids are accustomed to the expectation that they will help each other with the tasks of daily life.  I also firmly believe that this mentality is preparing my children for the real world.  If you cannot deal with people who irritate you, problem solve among a group, and see how your actions contribute to the whole of an organization, you aren't going to get very far in the working world.  Also, following Christ is primarily about sacrifice and love.  While I am careful not to dictate spirituality into my children's lives, I also believe that if your life is already full of sacrificial love, your heart will be more accepting of Christ's own love and sacrifice for you.

I think I will have more to share next time.  What about you?  What key ideas shape your family and your days?