new

I found a new blog that I like, Simple Mom. It's all about practical ways to manage your home - and life - well. So far there's been no blaring surprises, but I still really like it. If you follow the link, read her series on how to be unproductive and lazy. I enjoyed it.

In the spirit of practicality, a few things have happened in my little world lately that seem to be making life more enjoyable. This is normally not at all the kind of thing I would post, because some of my fellow bloggers are missionaries or grad students or planning weddings, and the rest of you are more experienced and way better at managing homes and life than I am. So why in the world would you want to read about what kind of toast I had for breakfast, or how I keep a calendar? But I figured, you know. If microwave food can be reviewed with such success, and recipe contests can be judged online, then why not.

First, I bought new shirts. This sounds so silly, but seriously, a girl NEEDS a cute shirt in life. When I started missing being pregnant because I have more to wear pregnant than not (what?!), it's time to make a change. I've learned something about myself this week - the older I get, the more I care about how I look. Isn't that odd? When I was 23 I wore jeans and t-shirts with confidence. Now I wear jeans and t-shirts and feel frumpy. It makes absolutely no sense, except that something about turning 30, having two children, and watching my skin start to sag (it's WEIRD, ya'll) makes a cuter shirt seem like the least I can do to improve things a bit. But you really can't get too serious about how you look while toting two children around, because everything ends up stretched out and spit-up-on by the end of the day. So. I found a clearance rack and got enough new shirts that I can get dressed in the morning and not feel as though I'm still in pajamas. And when I feel like I look better, I feel better about everything else. Yay for me.

Second, I'm getting a little more organized. Organization is either freeing or oppressive, depending on your personality. I need flexible organization. I need my stuff to have a home, but that home is probably a drawer, and not a specific spot in the drawer. I need structure, but not too much. A teacher once described (something else, but it applies to what I'm saying) as tracks for a train. The tracks give both a specific path and the ability to move to the train; without it, the train cannot function. With it, the train is free to move and do what it was created to do. That's me. I'm the train.

So I started organizing my time. One of the ways I have been the most overwhelmed in late pregnancy/brand-new-babyhood has been with housework. I can generally get dishes in the dishwasher, but seriously, you don't want to know how long it had been since someone had scrubbed a toilet in this house. There are certain things that simply can't be done with toddlers around, because they want to splash and throw and play in everything, including bleach or household cleaners (otherwise known as poisons). And when I only have 45 minutes to an hour a day of simultaneous naps, I don't want to use that time cleaning house. I want to sit very still and not talk to anyone.

I think I found a remedy.

I made a list of everything that needs to be done for me to feel like the house is clean. Then I assigned a day to each chore. Saturdays I have off, and there is no cleaning during naptime. Naps are my time to do whatever I want, which is normally nothing at all. It seems to be working for me. Train on the track, you know. It adds one more thing to my day, but the truth is I was working just as much before, I just didn't have anything to show for it. Now there may still be toys everywhere, but the toilets are clean(er).

So my days go something like this: morning rush, followed by my chore of the day, feed the baby, one-on-one time with Asher, snack, nap. (By the way, Asher generally doesn't eat lunch. If he does, he eats it after his nap. I know this makes him an odd child, but have you seen him? He's obviously healthy, so I don't fight it. He wouldn't eat a snack either if I didn't push it). In the afternoons, wake up, feed everyone, kids play while I drink a cup of coffee and try to stay awake (3:00 is always the low point for my energy), Brian comes home, dinner rush, bed. Sleep, repeat. Obviously if we have things to do in the morning we do them, and on those days I do my chore in the evenings. But it helps me enjoy the down time I have without worrying about what I'm not doing, and it means that our house is generally less grimy than it was before. Less grimy is good.

It has also made for a much more relaxing weekend. Not that any day with small children is really a lazy day, but yesterday was as close as it gets. It's nice to enjoy my free time more, and to enjoy my house more because it isn't a source of stress. And this morning I had something new to wear to church, which made me a little more excited about being in public (if you lecture me about why I go to church I will come through the internet to throw something at you. I KNOW. I also know I feel better in a cute shirt. The end and amen). One thing Simple Mom said has stuck with me - it's all a means to an end. Housework, finances, groceries, playgroups - the goal is creating an environment for your family, not to win a race. It is very good for me, reformed perfectionist that I am, to keep that in mind. My goal is a nurturing environment for my family. Messiness does not impede that goal. A dissatisfied and overwhelmed mother does.

And with that, I'm off to empty trash cans (Sunday's chore) and watch a movie (Sunday's habit). Happy cleaning and resting, everyone.

like weeds, or kudzu, or rumors in a small town

Before I say anything else, I have something important to share:  Silas slept through the night last night.  Is still sleeping through the night, actually, because the time at the tone is 5:21, and he hasn't stirred yet.  

Hooray.

Now-

I am posting then and now pictures so that you can agree with me when I say, "They're growing up too fast!" By the way, this is most of why I stay at home. Some of it is financial - I work in non-profit, and would basically hand over my paycheck to childcare - and some of it is overprotectiveness? the desire to nurture? I'm not sure what to call it, but it's the belief that, as their mother, I am their best teacher at this age (though not at every age. Someone else is way more qualified to teach them geometry). But most of it is that I don't want to miss their childhoods. It's running away from me as it is, and the idea of someone else having more time with my kids than I do is just too much for me. It will be over too soon anyway, and I'll spend the rest of my life telling stories about the next few years. I don't want to miss a thing.

With that in mind -

in March


in August


June 22


August 31


in April


in August (yes, of the same year. Unbelievable.)


and my favorite - June 2007 (look at that baby!)


last weekend

Happy Saturday.

Missy pointed out that I misspelled e/ingenious. Oops.

Thanks for giving your opinion. Just to be clear, there is therefore now no condemnation from this side of the aisle. From me, anyway.

Brian was out of town last night. Which means I have been alone with the kids for 24 hours, and have not yet needed to cry or count to ten before I could respond. Hooray! Bedtime is always the hardest (because they have two different routines that need to occur at exactly the same time), but even in that, we have found a rhythm. It's so good to feel a little more competent in my job.

Everyone is well, except that Silas is still congested and not eating as much as before. He's such a happy little guy, though, that it's hard to figure out if he's just at the tail end of the crud, or if he needs to see the doctor again. I'm going to give him through the weekend.

One of the hard things about a blog is that my life does not happen in a vacuum. I have so much going on aside from babies right now, but it all is in the context of relationships, and that's not really blog material. So I guess schedules are all I've got this morning. Not all I've got in life, but all I've got for you.

How about a picture, so you don't feel like you've wasted your time?


See the vertical bruise on his forehead? That would be where I CRACKED his head opening the door to the library (I thought he was behind me!) . Man, talk about guilt.

Happy Friday, everyone.

BONUS: Asher this morning is wearing a navy blue t-shirt that says, "I'm going to my happy place - Grandma's!"; khaki cargo shorts; and his winter shoes, that he refuses to take off. We call them potato shoes around here, but they are little charcoal colored clogs. Anyway, between the outfit, winter shoes, and his perfect little round toddler baby, he looks like a 2'11" youth minister. I feel like he should be leading a game of Chubby Bunny or something.

as if you weren't hearing enough about her everywhere else.

I just can't help myself. Here are my thoughts on Sarah Palin.

Yes, Chani, snarky is exactly the word I would use to describe her speech last night. I was surprised that in her first national speech, she would want to paint herself as such a, well, snarky person. I actually saw her speech (it's the first one I've seen since the convention season started, because my mind is already made up and controversy is not a sport I enjoy. It's not as though I was going to watch the RNC - or the DNC, for that matter - and be swayed), and was not nearly as impressed as the Today show told me I should be this morning. What did she say of substance? Name one thing, any thing. She didn't. She was sarcastic and fluffy; she just happens to do sarcasm and fluff very well.

Even so - choosing her, in my opinion, was ingenious. She is the Republican version of Nancy Pelosi, and say whatever you want about her politics, Nancy Pelosi has proven herself a force to be reckoned with. She has five children, she's from a small town (and isn't she so proud of it?), she was a beauty queen - she is Everyman in 2008. She'll attract the social conservative vote (Brian assures me she's already won over the talk radio guys, whom he listens to simply to have someone to argue with in the car. Controversy, apparently, is a sport he enjoys very much) and let McCain be the moderate who can attract independents. Plus, she's a woman, which was also intentional, I'm sure. Intentional on McCain's part, that is. Palin had very little control over that.

I see why they chose her, not that I'm going to do the same. Even so, the joke about the hockey mom and pit bulls made me laugh. But, seriously? You're the governor of Alaska. You can afford to hire a sitter and get your baby to BED.

We haven't had a card reader for a few weeks, so I haven't been able to upload pictures. (I can't be certain exactly what happened, but I am pretty sure some little boy in the house tried to crank it using a car key. Then I devoted an hour of my life - which I can never have back - to unbending the probes. It worked for the afternoon, then never again. Alas.) Now we have a new one, so it's time to catch up. Here are pictures from the weekend. To see the rest of August, click on the flickr slideshow to your left.


in their jammies



the park, early in the morning



It was easy to get a picture of him smiling on his dad's shoulders, because he never stopped smiling the whole time.


Sometimes Brother gets loved to death.


Ok. So last week someone gave Silas this outfit, and I was so excited, because it matched Asher's Easter outfit from this spring (by the way - at Easter, that outfit was on the cusp of being too big. By August, it's on the cusp of being too small. Good grief. But I digress). So I dressed them up for church this Sunday, and figured I was getting it in right under the wire. If girls can't wear white after Labor Day, surely boys can't wear searsucker. This was my last chance to get a picture of them in their little outfits together. Except - Silas was sleepy and INSULTED that I had plans for him that did not include his bed, and Asher had Very Important Things To Do that did not involve sitting still for the camera. I didn't get a single good picture. But at least you can see the outfits in this one - sort of.


Didn't I tell you he was cute? And getting more alert every day.


This is by far Silas' best picture. I told you Dad is funny.


Brian equals play time for both of them. We call this one Six Flags over Daddy.


A bonus: my parents' cat stalking the hummingbirds. Apparently they were taking too long, because he gave up and took a nap instead.

The thing about being awake at 5 a.m. is occasionally you witness a crime.

I've mentioned before there is a thief in our midst. We have since learned that our otherwise safe street is routinely scourged by the same kid. I've seen him around, and even caught him scoping out my house once. He's thirteen, skinny, and alone, wearing oversized clothes and looking like trouble.

Saturday morning, 5:23 a.m. and the entire family is awake. We were loading up for a walk when I saw the same skinny, loping kid running down the road with a children's dirt bike. The bike looked new, and was too small for him to ride. "What do you think is happening right now?" I said to Brian. "Petty theft," Brian replied.

He called the police as he walked out the door to see which direction the kid went. Brian found where the kid stashed the bike and where he lived. The police patrolled all morning, questioning every kid on a bike in the area. I don't know if they ever found him. As the officer was leaving the vacant yard where the stolen bike was hidden, Brian explained that he really hoped the kid would be arrested. "I'm afraid he's going to look in the wrong window," Brian said. "Some of our neighbors would love to have a reason to use their gun." "Well," said the officer, "I'm not suggesting anyone break the law, but a well-placed bullet would certainly teach him a lesson."

As if he were a dog.

And this is why we won't have a gun, no matter how much I'm home alone or how often my purse is stolen. There is nothing I own that is worth a human life. He's a kid - a punk, to be sure, who needs to be arrested, needs to have the shit scared out of him, needs to spend some time in juvenile detention - but he's still a kid. Somebody's grandson, somebody's student, somebody's friend. Plus he's so skinny, I'm pretty sure I could take him if necessary.

I understand it is a right to protect your property. But against whom? And to what end?  What does it say about us as a society that we uphold the right to kill another person over belongings?  If someone was trying to harm my children, I can safely say I would die trying to save them. But to protect my cell phone and wallet? Or some kid's dirt bike? Is that really worth this child's future, however bleak it may be? Exactly what lesson would he learn from a bullet, Officer?

There is nothing I own that I value more than a life - even the life of a thief. If that makes me a bleeding heart, well, I can live with that. So long as no other blood is spilt.

in which i gush shamelessly

Praise Jesus and antibiotics, everyone is on the mend. Except that now they both have upset stomaches from the antibiotics ... which just reminds me that if I'm waiting for a perfect day, I'm going to be waiting a long time. Better is good enough.

It occurs to me that in all of the drama of the summer, I have told you all about illness, sleeplessness, tears, and transition. What's been left out are all of the GOOD things about our new baby boy.

He's so cute, ya'll. He doesn't look a thing in the world like his brother, and it depends on what he does as to who he resembles. Most people have commented that he looks like Brian, if anyone. He'll make certain faces that are the Lee (my maternal) family. And he has reddish hair and blue eyes that seem to be getting lighter rather than darker. I don't know where that came from. When he sleeps he resembles Asher, but only vaguely (and probably only to his mother).

And he has such a sweet little personality. This week we have discovered "Ready set go." Everybody loves it - Asher lines up by the fireplace, laughing already. I say, "Ready?" "Rery!!" he replies. "Set?" "ET!" and then he can't wait for the prompt ... "GO!" He laughs and runs five or six steps, then lines up at the fireplace again. Silas thinks it's hysterical. Ready-set-go makes him GRIN as big as he can, and once or twice has made him chuckle. It's so cute. He's got a little dimple on one side, and seems to be rather quick to smile or play. Even the other morning after our near-death experience (or what felt like a near-death experience. My doctor assures me it is very unlikely he will die choking on liquid, but in that moment it really felt like he might), when my hands were still shaking, he kept smiling at me. The little stinker - very nearly stops breathing, then SMILES .

I can't believe it, but he already has lost the newborn look (which is precious, but let's be honest - unless you're related to them, newborns look like sleeping babies. And when they're awake, they look like little blobs) and is growing into a baby. I'm already putting away 0-3 month clothes (need some? I have onesies to go around). He's also falling into the young baby pattern of eat, play, sleep, that Ezzo insists upon creating, but I insist will happen naturally if you just follow their cues. He still wakes up once at night to eat, but mostly sleeps through that feeding and then goes right back to bed. I rock him to sleep but he will wake up when I put him down, and nine times out of ten will squirm for a minute then fall back asleep on his own (which AMAZES me, because Asher was nowhere near able to do that at his age). He doesn't need to sleep on me at all anymore, though sometimes I let him nap on me in the afternoons, just because I want to. That time is so short, when they can still fit into a little ball on your chest. I'm more reluctant to see it go this time around.

All babies cry (right Laura?), but he's not at all a fussy baby. Even with both ears infected, he was surprisingly calm. Mostly if I can hold him, he is fine. All he wants in the world is to be against me. How do you argue with that? Though he gets put down plenty - out of necessity more than philosophy. I keep telling him, he would be an ideal only child. All he wants is to be held, and if holding him was all I had to do, I would be happy to oblige. But while it's my lap he prefers, it's Brian who has made him laugh. Even now, at two months old, Mom equals comfort, while Dad equals fun. Maybe they are hard-wired that way.

In the past few days, I've realized that the newborn phase is slipping away, and I've had the urge to write down everything now, fast, before I forget it. My memory is terrible, and I would love to say, I'll never forget how he slept on me for the first few weeks. But odds are, I will. And some day far far in the future, when some other far away future baby (who is far from this moment, let's be clear) does something like want to sleep on me, I'm going to say, none of my other babies did that. So I'm trying to write it all down.

But I will remember emotions and impressions - like the sweetness of looking down on a tiny baby head and washing tiny baby toes. By Christmas I'll have a gummy chubby boy smiling in front of the tree for pictures. And by next summer Asher will have conversations that won't require my interpretation, while Silas will be toddling away from me, chasing after his brother. We have a lot to look forward to. The best thing about having a bad memory is that I'll probably forget Asher's throat covered in ulcers or Silas choking. What I'll remember is the sound of Asher saying, "Kiss him," whenever he sees his brother, and the feeling of sitting in the recliner, that first night, both babies clean and sleepy in my lap, knowing my babies were - finally - safe, well, and home.

Thanks be to God.