I didn't much appreciate all the hair I lost a couple months after delivering each of the boys. There's a medical term for it, and I started my shedding exactly 12 weeks after each of their birthdays. Hair everywhere. Yuck. A receding hair line. Double yuck.
This is much better kind of shedding. Therapeutic in fact.
We're getting ready to move. But we have found the house we're moving to yet. This had me a little anxious, staring at the computer screen many evenings, searching and searching different real estate sites, as if I could actually bring our future house onto the market with sheer effort, determination, or magic combination of search requirements.
And then, God gave me a few nudges. You know, that I am not in control. A friend encouraged me, "Well, you could use this time to pack, so you're ready to go when you do find the house."
What, not wait until the days before we move to pack? Somehow, I just figured sleepless nights and a looming deadline were a part of moving. With two little ones, it's pretty unrealistic to think I am going to have 12 uninterrupted hours in a day to pack up our house. It's the packing rush that leads to the I-don't-have-time-to-sort-it mess, the mystery boxes, the dust collectors that were never opened from the previous move packed into a truck to move yet again.
So, I have time. And miraculously, I am using it. Sorting, organizing, shedding, labeling. With each trip to the dumpster, black trash bag in hand, I feel lighter. A little giddy in fact. I'm encouraged by the vision of our new home, even though I have no idea yet what it looks like. I have a sense of how it will feel, and I'm excited.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Buzz
Bobcats (as in the skid-loaders) lost their all-consuming grip on Eli this winter. Lighting McQueen became his primary obsession, temporarily took second place to Wall-E, then regained his "most-beloved" standing.
A few weeks ago, he watched Toy Story. It took several days to make it through the entire movie. Those mutant toys are pretty scary! Eli especially didn't like Sid, the dog, or "the clippy thing with one eye closed". And his eyed filled with huge tears and his bottom lip quivered as he watched the scene when Buzz realized he could not really fly.
"Momma, Buzz is so sad. He can't really fly Momma. Momma, Buzz is really sad," and with that the tears came pouring down.
His empathy was sweet. I didn't know what to say or how to reassure him. We turned the movie off, as I reassured him that Buzz would feel better later in the story, that it would be okay.
A half hour later, in the kitchen, he said, "Momma, can we turn the movie back on and check to see if Buzz is feeling better yet? Is he still sad, or is he feeling happy now?"
Finally, we made it through the movie. And he's hooked. If you are quiet, you can probably hear him now.
"You Infinity....and Beyonnnnn!" as he jumps from the couch.
A few weeks ago, he watched Toy Story. It took several days to make it through the entire movie. Those mutant toys are pretty scary! Eli especially didn't like Sid, the dog, or "the clippy thing with one eye closed". And his eyed filled with huge tears and his bottom lip quivered as he watched the scene when Buzz realized he could not really fly.
"Momma, Buzz is so sad. He can't really fly Momma. Momma, Buzz is really sad," and with that the tears came pouring down.
His empathy was sweet. I didn't know what to say or how to reassure him. We turned the movie off, as I reassured him that Buzz would feel better later in the story, that it would be okay.
A half hour later, in the kitchen, he said, "Momma, can we turn the movie back on and check to see if Buzz is feeling better yet? Is he still sad, or is he feeling happy now?"
Finally, we made it through the movie. And he's hooked. If you are quiet, you can probably hear him now.
"You Infinity....and Beyonnnnn!" as he jumps from the couch.
Friday, March 27, 2009
music for the season
This is one of those dreaded projects. Unless you're one of those that have mastered "delayed gratification." Unfortunately, that's not me.
We have a mountain of cd's in our home. In my single years, I loved to spend hours at Borders, or more offbeat music shops, listening to albums, looking for that new favorite artist to become part of the soundtrack of that life stage. Isn't it funny, how you just have to hear a song, and you remember the crush, the adventure, the joy, the drive, the weather...? Bon Jovi, Sarah McLachlan, Keb' Mo, Train, Dave Matthews- they each take me back to different summers, different seasons.
All those seasons are getting rather dusty. And they're a mess. The CD cover may or may not indicate what cd is actually enclosed. Oh, the fun when it says VeggieTales, but then Beastie Boys comes blasting through the car speakers. Sorry kids.
We've tried. I've spend entire evenings sorting, alphabetizing, arranging. I made Joel join me in the dreaded project, imploring him to please not just stack them all on top of the CD rack when you're done, but put them back in their rightful place, and then we wouldn't have to do this again. He suggested we go digital and ditch the cd's all together.
I refused. Too sterile. I like album art and liner notes. I like to hold my music, see my music.
And then, the mess again. My 3 year old, pulling cd's out of the player, "Mama, do you know where the Glenn and Marketta song is?" My 15 month old, scrambling to pull album after album off the shelf, just for the glorious sound they make crashing to the wood floor. An me, with the quiet (there's no need to tell my husband) realization that it's me setting a pile from the car on top of the CD rack because, "I will sort through them later, you know, when I have time."
Well now it's time. Not for another sorting session, but the last sorting session. We're going digital. Because really, when is the last time I read liner notes? When in the last year have I stepped foot into a music store to browse? I know, I'm kind of a late adopter on this one. What took me so long? A stubborn streak. And the absolute mundane torture of downloading every single cd on our laptop. We started this morning, and we're about halfway through. But I finally think it's worth it.
Because really, I miss the music. I do want the music back in my daily life, my kitchen, my backyard, my room. These are some great days, and they deserve their own soundtracks too.
We have a mountain of cd's in our home. In my single years, I loved to spend hours at Borders, or more offbeat music shops, listening to albums, looking for that new favorite artist to become part of the soundtrack of that life stage. Isn't it funny, how you just have to hear a song, and you remember the crush, the adventure, the joy, the drive, the weather...? Bon Jovi, Sarah McLachlan, Keb' Mo, Train, Dave Matthews- they each take me back to different summers, different seasons.
All those seasons are getting rather dusty. And they're a mess. The CD cover may or may not indicate what cd is actually enclosed. Oh, the fun when it says VeggieTales, but then Beastie Boys comes blasting through the car speakers. Sorry kids.
We've tried. I've spend entire evenings sorting, alphabetizing, arranging. I made Joel join me in the dreaded project, imploring him to please not just stack them all on top of the CD rack when you're done, but put them back in their rightful place, and then we wouldn't have to do this again. He suggested we go digital and ditch the cd's all together.
I refused. Too sterile. I like album art and liner notes. I like to hold my music, see my music.
And then, the mess again. My 3 year old, pulling cd's out of the player, "Mama, do you know where the Glenn and Marketta song is?" My 15 month old, scrambling to pull album after album off the shelf, just for the glorious sound they make crashing to the wood floor. An me, with the quiet (there's no need to tell my husband) realization that it's me setting a pile from the car on top of the CD rack because, "I will sort through them later, you know, when I have time."
Well now it's time. Not for another sorting session, but the last sorting session. We're going digital. Because really, when is the last time I read liner notes? When in the last year have I stepped foot into a music store to browse? I know, I'm kind of a late adopter on this one. What took me so long? A stubborn streak. And the absolute mundane torture of downloading every single cd on our laptop. We started this morning, and we're about halfway through. But I finally think it's worth it.
Because really, I miss the music. I do want the music back in my daily life, my kitchen, my backyard, my room. These are some great days, and they deserve their own soundtracks too.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Rules for the Road
We got the plastic firetruck out of the basement a month or so ago. The kind that is meant for someone Beckett's age. To push around as he learns to walk, or scoot along as he learns to ride.
The truck was hijacked. By Eli. He prefers to ride with shoes on (all the better to push with) to get some serious speed as flies though the thoroughfare of a hallway the runs the depth of our house. He has bumped his head on the front door a time or two when he misjudged his speed, but I'm picking my battles- it's a great way to burn off three year old energy on cold winter days.
The other night, as he was whizzing through the house, he told Joel he was thirsty. Joel got him some milk. A few minutes later, I heard this conversation in the hallway.
"Daddy, the milk is not coming out of my sippy cup."
"Well bud, you need to get off your truck if you want it to work. You can't drink while you're driving.
Glad we started that conversation early.
The truck was hijacked. By Eli. He prefers to ride with shoes on (all the better to push with) to get some serious speed as flies though the thoroughfare of a hallway the runs the depth of our house. He has bumped his head on the front door a time or two when he misjudged his speed, but I'm picking my battles- it's a great way to burn off three year old energy on cold winter days.
The other night, as he was whizzing through the house, he told Joel he was thirsty. Joel got him some milk. A few minutes later, I heard this conversation in the hallway.
"Daddy, the milk is not coming out of my sippy cup."
"Well bud, you need to get off your truck if you want it to work. You can't drink while you're driving.
Glad we started that conversation early.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Twelve
Twelve beautiful hours.
As in, the number of consecutive hours that Beckett slept last night.
Days shy of 15 months old, and he is finally sleeping though the night. Which means that I am sleeping through the night...almost. I did wake up at 2:00 a.m. in a brief panic. If you're a mom you too may have experienced the "I have been asleep for more than four hours and he's still sleeping- oh, no what's wrong with my child!" phenomenon. But it took no time at all for the panic to subside, and sleepy gratitude settle in.
I could get used to this. Please.
As in, the number of consecutive hours that Beckett slept last night.
Days shy of 15 months old, and he is finally sleeping though the night. Which means that I am sleeping through the night...almost. I did wake up at 2:00 a.m. in a brief panic. If you're a mom you too may have experienced the "I have been asleep for more than four hours and he's still sleeping- oh, no what's wrong with my child!" phenomenon. But it took no time at all for the panic to subside, and sleepy gratitude settle in.
I could get used to this. Please.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I want...
The other day, on the way home, Eli spotted Lion's Choice, home of the .14 ice cream cone.
"I wanna ice cream cone!" came the demand from the backseat.
Uh, uh. Not that I was planning on getting him an ice cream cone, but that kind of ask certainly wasn't going to move the decision in his favor.
"Eli, we're not getting an ice cream cone today," I said calmly.
"But I WANT an ice cream!"
"I know you do. But we're not getting one today."
The light is red, so we're stuck here, his window facing Lion's Choice. I wondered if I should explain to him that part of the reason I was saying no is because of the way he asked. But he seemed grumpy, and I was pretty sure it would land on deaf ears.
"But I WANT to have an ice cream!" he demanded in a louder voice.
Oh boy, here we go. There is a melt-down in his near future. How can I explain to him that we don't always get the things we want? When we he understand the concept that "wanting" does not equal "having"?
Then, an idea. In a slightly whiney, demanding voice, I said, "I want a GIANT stuffed teddy bear!"
He looked surprised, paused, and explained in a matter of fact tone, "But they don't have teddy bears there."
"But I WANT a giant teddy bear!"
"But mama, they don't HAVE giant teddy bears at Lion's Choice. You could get an ice cream there, or a hot dog, or a chocolate milk."
"But I WANT a GIANT stuffed teddy bear!"
"They don't have them there mama," he said with slight frustration.
"But I WANT a giant teddy bear!"
He was quiet, and I could tell he was thinking it over. Then in reassuring voice, he said, ""Okay Mama, we could just talk about it later."
The light turned green, and I enjoyed a silent 5 minute ride home.
"I wanna ice cream cone!" came the demand from the backseat.
Uh, uh. Not that I was planning on getting him an ice cream cone, but that kind of ask certainly wasn't going to move the decision in his favor.
"Eli, we're not getting an ice cream cone today," I said calmly.
"But I WANT an ice cream!"
"I know you do. But we're not getting one today."
The light is red, so we're stuck here, his window facing Lion's Choice. I wondered if I should explain to him that part of the reason I was saying no is because of the way he asked. But he seemed grumpy, and I was pretty sure it would land on deaf ears.
"But I WANT to have an ice cream!" he demanded in a louder voice.
Oh boy, here we go. There is a melt-down in his near future. How can I explain to him that we don't always get the things we want? When we he understand the concept that "wanting" does not equal "having"?
Then, an idea. In a slightly whiney, demanding voice, I said, "I want a GIANT stuffed teddy bear!"
He looked surprised, paused, and explained in a matter of fact tone, "But they don't have teddy bears there."
"But I WANT a giant teddy bear!"
"But mama, they don't HAVE giant teddy bears at Lion's Choice. You could get an ice cream there, or a hot dog, or a chocolate milk."
"But I WANT a GIANT stuffed teddy bear!"
"They don't have them there mama," he said with slight frustration.
"But I WANT a giant teddy bear!"
He was quiet, and I could tell he was thinking it over. Then in reassuring voice, he said, ""Okay Mama, we could just talk about it later."
The light turned green, and I enjoyed a silent 5 minute ride home.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tubes
Tubes.
Another word that has entirely new meaning for me these days. A word that brings a whole lot of hope to many parents, like us, whose little ones are plagued with ear infections. The hope of quiet, restful nights, of fewer trips to the pediatrician, of less midnight doses of Tylenol or Motrin to ease earaches and cool fevers. The frivolous luxury of sleeping through the night.
B got tubes this morning.
It made us feel better to call it a "procedure" instead of surgery, but the idea of our 14 month old "going under" general anesthetic wasn't fun. We just kept reminding ourselves that this is simple as far as surgeries go...not the heart surgery that some parents have to face.
We arrived at the hospital at 7:30 am. The original plan was for Joel and I to take B together and have friend come over to watch snoozing big brother. When E came down with a stomach virus yesterday, we thought it was best not to leave a feverish and vomiting 3 year old without mom or dad, so Joel stayed home with him while I took B for his "procedure."
The nurses and doctors were great. There was no dramatic moment of them wheeling a screaming baby away as I tearfully let go of his hand. Instead, I handed him, drowsy and sedated, to the nurse, who carried him to the operating room as the anesthesiologist wheeled the gurney behind them. I appreciate that. Within a few minutes, the Dr. came in to tell me that everything went well, and he gave me the post op instructions. Later, I heard Beckett coming down the hall, crying in confusion as he came to. And they placed him in my arms, where he gradually calmed down-it was the car keys that really did the trick. By 10:20, we were in the car, on our way home.
So, with one boy recovering from a procedure and the other a tummy bug, there is still Tylenol and Motrin to administer. It's been a long day. But I'm feeling hopeful that there is rest ahead.
Another word that has entirely new meaning for me these days. A word that brings a whole lot of hope to many parents, like us, whose little ones are plagued with ear infections. The hope of quiet, restful nights, of fewer trips to the pediatrician, of less midnight doses of Tylenol or Motrin to ease earaches and cool fevers. The frivolous luxury of sleeping through the night.
B got tubes this morning.
It made us feel better to call it a "procedure" instead of surgery, but the idea of our 14 month old "going under" general anesthetic wasn't fun. We just kept reminding ourselves that this is simple as far as surgeries go...not the heart surgery that some parents have to face.
We arrived at the hospital at 7:30 am. The original plan was for Joel and I to take B together and have friend come over to watch snoozing big brother. When E came down with a stomach virus yesterday, we thought it was best not to leave a feverish and vomiting 3 year old without mom or dad, so Joel stayed home with him while I took B for his "procedure."
The nurses and doctors were great. There was no dramatic moment of them wheeling a screaming baby away as I tearfully let go of his hand. Instead, I handed him, drowsy and sedated, to the nurse, who carried him to the operating room as the anesthesiologist wheeled the gurney behind them. I appreciate that. Within a few minutes, the Dr. came in to tell me that everything went well, and he gave me the post op instructions. Later, I heard Beckett coming down the hall, crying in confusion as he came to. And they placed him in my arms, where he gradually calmed down-it was the car keys that really did the trick. By 10:20, we were in the car, on our way home.
So, with one boy recovering from a procedure and the other a tummy bug, there is still Tylenol and Motrin to administer. It's been a long day. But I'm feeling hopeful that there is rest ahead.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)