I've been swimming a lot lately. My knees, which were going to magically heal once I stopped breastfeeding, did not read my goals and expectations for them and continue to ache if I even pretend to exert myself by pulling the wagon around the block with two children in it.
And by swimming a lot, I mean very little. Because with all of the activities that make swimming possible (dragging myself out of bed at 4:51 a.m., hitting snooze once, or twice, getting ready to go, arriving at the pool, showering so my hair won't turn green, showering again after the workout so I actually get to shower that day, getting dressed doing the secret towel dance in the locker room, rubbing vaseline into my disgusting, cracking heels, and then driving home), there is very little time for actual swimming.
I'm up to half a mile, which takes me about 20 minutes. All those other activities take 1 hour and 40 minutes, so that pretty much shoots my extravagant two hour workout time to heck. And notice that drying my hair is not on the list of events. It takes too much time. But I hear that frizzy, half-wavy hair is all the rage these days. And so are cutoffs and baggy t-shirts, and zero make-up.
I miss running. Running is far superior to any other activity. Let's compare:
Running: Grab your shoes and go.
Swimming: Grab your cap, googles, ear plugs, swim suit, flip flops, towel, shampoo and conditioner (does anyone else call conditioner "cream rinse"? I do and Mike thinks I am the craziest person ever), and go.
Running: Walk out the door. Run.
Swimming: Find a pool within 20 miles of your home. Find out when the pool's lap swim hours are. Go during the hours and hope someone will share their lane with you, instead of rudely telling you that there is not enough room, they were there first. (Roy Complex, I'm talking to you!)
Running: Breathe.
Swimming: Don't breathe, except at regularly scheduled intervals-- unless you enjoy water burning through your nasal cavity, then breathe all you want.
Running: Enjoy the fresh air.
Swimming: Smell the chlorine.
Running: Ahhh! Sunshine, clouds, beauty all around.
Swimming: Fluorescent lights, cinderblocks, peeling pool bottom with someone's gum floating lazily on it.
Running: Smile and wave at the people you pass.
Swimming: Squint through your goggles at the feet of the old lady passing you in the next lane.
Running: It's just better.
Please knees, please stop hurting. Or at least retreat to a bearable pain that I can ignore while running.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
Summer Survival
Last summer was rough. In fact thinking about this summer has given me chills of terror for the last month. I think I have actually lost a few hours of sleep thinking about my eight-year-old (#1) and six-year-old (#2) home all day, every day, slap-fighting each other, grabbing the poor, defenseless one-year-old (#4), whining incessantly, stealing toys from the three-year-old (#3), etc.
I would prefer to be one of those moms that looks forward to summertime, so I have a two-pronged attack this summer for a better time, or at least less memory of bad times.
1. Take up drinking. Not really. That might help with the memory part, but I don't think it would actually improve my summer or my children's lives. Plus, there's no money in the grocery budget for alcohol.
Real 1. Lower my expectations (isn't that kind of like drinking?). I've been warning the girls in my sternest, most-depressing-voice-ever that summer doesn't mean fun, it means extra chores. Three chores every day! Before anything fun can happen! AND I MEAN IT. And then I glare at them scarily. I do believe that I am setting myself up for an epic failure. Since summer started this week, I'm officially dialing it down, taking a step back and dropping the three chores expectation. I'm also not planning every minute and I'm going to chill out. My children will learn the value of hard work, but it doesn't have to be over my dead body. I still expect them to help and do at least one chore a day, practice their piano, read and not become too stupid.
2. Routines, routines, routines. So now that I've claimed to be all relaxed and super chill, my second prong involves routines that are set up to help me succeed. But I'm not going to freak out about my routines not being followed. Maybe just a little. In my head only though. And Mike is giving me Thursday evenings off, so if I freak out too much I can re-balance.
a. Meal time Routine: Help with preparation when possible/desired (by me), wash hands, set table, eat with manners (most of the time), clear plate, wash hands and face, help clean-up including sweeping and washing off table.
b. Morning Routine: Wake-up all children by 8:30ish. They are usually awake by then anyway. Breakfast (mealtime routine observed!), get ready for the day, bike ride (We copied my friend Kim and have a goal to ride 100 miles this summer, stopping only every few feet for a slap-fight when #1 accidentally runs into #2, who stops suddenly and was sure #1 did it on purpose), snack, piano practice, tv show.
c. Lunch Routine: I will make one item for lunch, if the kids don't like it, fine, they can make their own lunch. Today #2 ate grapes for lunch. She may have some stomach issues. This is fine. After lunch is free play time. 1:00p.m. begins the wrestle to get #3 to nap. I'm going to fix that though. I'm going to get me a nice nap routine going on too. 2:00p.m. #4 naps.
d. Summer School Routine: I'm doing a small summer school for #2 and #1. Once #3 is napping, school begins. They have mats that we made a couple summers ago from paper that I laminated and they get those and sit on them. We sing a little welcome song, I read to them from a chapter book. I've chosen The BFG by Roald Dahl to begin with and plan to checkout other classic read-alouds from the library to read with them this summer. After a chapter of me reading we have private reading time. #2 reads to me (reluctantly with hatred and much cajoling) and #1 heads to my room to read her choice (she loves reading, but I remember she was once difficult to persuade.)
After about 15-20 minutes of this we fill out our reading charts and I present a short lesson on something. So far we have had lessons on menu-planning (graphing skills, right?) and music notes. I pretty much make that up right then. I plan to develop some plan for this, but haven't yet. After the lesson it's time for chores and then recess. Recess ends with a snack (#3 is awake by now)and then we are supposed to do something awesome. I haven't yet made it to this portion of the day without some interruption, so I'm still refining this. And that's okay.
Condensed:
A. Welcome Song
B. Read Aloud by Mom
C. Private Reading Time
D. Short Lesson
E. Chore
F. Recess
G. Snack
H. Project
e. Daddy Home Routine: Mike plays with the girls for a bit while I fix dinner, dinner routine, more play time, whatever.
f. Bedtime Routine for #2 and #1, (#3 and #4 should be having a bath at 7:30, at least every other day) 8:15 baths, get ready for bed, prayers at 8:45, family scripture reading, bed.
g. Leaving Routine: Warning 5 minutes to leaving. "Please get shoes and things needed for travel", Go to van.
Do you have routines? Running a household of six people seems awfully complicated to me. I'm hoping these routines will simplify my life, not make it crazier.
Now that I've got all these routines laid out, I just have to work in things like swim lessons and park day and playing with friends, and swimming and vacations. Fun times!!
Here's to a summer full of duck walking in regimented lines. I mean, a summer of fun and relaxation.
I would prefer to be one of those moms that looks forward to summertime, so I have a two-pronged attack this summer for a better time, or at least less memory of bad times.
1. Take up drinking. Not really. That might help with the memory part, but I don't think it would actually improve my summer or my children's lives. Plus, there's no money in the grocery budget for alcohol.
Real 1. Lower my expectations (isn't that kind of like drinking?). I've been warning the girls in my sternest, most-depressing-voice-ever that summer doesn't mean fun, it means extra chores. Three chores every day! Before anything fun can happen! AND I MEAN IT. And then I glare at them scarily. I do believe that I am setting myself up for an epic failure. Since summer started this week, I'm officially dialing it down, taking a step back and dropping the three chores expectation. I'm also not planning every minute and I'm going to chill out. My children will learn the value of hard work, but it doesn't have to be over my dead body. I still expect them to help and do at least one chore a day, practice their piano, read and not become too stupid.
2. Routines, routines, routines. So now that I've claimed to be all relaxed and super chill, my second prong involves routines that are set up to help me succeed. But I'm not going to freak out about my routines not being followed. Maybe just a little. In my head only though. And Mike is giving me Thursday evenings off, so if I freak out too much I can re-balance.
a. Meal time Routine: Help with preparation when possible/desired (by me), wash hands, set table, eat with manners (most of the time), clear plate, wash hands and face, help clean-up including sweeping and washing off table.
b. Morning Routine: Wake-up all children by 8:30ish. They are usually awake by then anyway. Breakfast (mealtime routine observed!), get ready for the day, bike ride (We copied my friend Kim and have a goal to ride 100 miles this summer, stopping only every few feet for a slap-fight when #1 accidentally runs into #2, who stops suddenly and was sure #1 did it on purpose), snack, piano practice, tv show.
c. Lunch Routine: I will make one item for lunch, if the kids don't like it, fine, they can make their own lunch. Today #2 ate grapes for lunch. She may have some stomach issues. This is fine. After lunch is free play time. 1:00p.m. begins the wrestle to get #3 to nap. I'm going to fix that though. I'm going to get me a nice nap routine going on too. 2:00p.m. #4 naps.
d. Summer School Routine: I'm doing a small summer school for #2 and #1. Once #3 is napping, school begins. They have mats that we made a couple summers ago from paper that I laminated and they get those and sit on them. We sing a little welcome song, I read to them from a chapter book. I've chosen The BFG by Roald Dahl to begin with and plan to checkout other classic read-alouds from the library to read with them this summer. After a chapter of me reading we have private reading time. #2 reads to me (reluctantly with hatred and much cajoling) and #1 heads to my room to read her choice (she loves reading, but I remember she was once difficult to persuade.)
After about 15-20 minutes of this we fill out our reading charts and I present a short lesson on something. So far we have had lessons on menu-planning (graphing skills, right?) and music notes. I pretty much make that up right then. I plan to develop some plan for this, but haven't yet. After the lesson it's time for chores and then recess. Recess ends with a snack (#3 is awake by now)and then we are supposed to do something awesome. I haven't yet made it to this portion of the day without some interruption, so I'm still refining this. And that's okay.
Condensed:
A. Welcome Song
B. Read Aloud by Mom
C. Private Reading Time
D. Short Lesson
E. Chore
F. Recess
G. Snack
H. Project
e. Daddy Home Routine: Mike plays with the girls for a bit while I fix dinner, dinner routine, more play time, whatever.
f. Bedtime Routine for #2 and #1, (#3 and #4 should be having a bath at 7:30, at least every other day) 8:15 baths, get ready for bed, prayers at 8:45, family scripture reading, bed.
g. Leaving Routine: Warning 5 minutes to leaving. "Please get shoes and things needed for travel", Go to van.
Do you have routines? Running a household of six people seems awfully complicated to me. I'm hoping these routines will simplify my life, not make it crazier.
Now that I've got all these routines laid out, I just have to work in things like swim lessons and park day and playing with friends, and swimming and vacations. Fun times!!
Here's to a summer full of duck walking in regimented lines. I mean, a summer of fun and relaxation.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Why I keep this blog (intermittently, but still)
After having a baby, I tend to wander around in my life, lost and purposeless. Reading that sentence, I would think it should be the opposite. Which, of course, makes me feel even worse.
My form of the baby blues, occurs about 4-6 months after having the baby, right when I should be pulling it together. Right when I should have the baby figured out, be wearing my old jeans again, sporting a stylish haircut, and be on top of everything. Right when I should be demonstrating my ability to hold it all together, I lose it.
It usually involves feeling like nothing matters. It feels like I have been cast into space and all stars and pricks of light have disappeared. My baby blues are a void. The closest thing I can summon to an emotion is anger, which seems to flash out from me. And while on the outside I mostly hold it together, I am empty---empty from absence, not empty from not being filled.
During my worst times the blackness piles and piles on me--and I wonder if it is possible to be pressed to death by emptiness. I tend to lose my sense of humor and instead of finding laughter and commonality and a sense of community with others, I mutter bitterly, "That's so typical of my life." I feel expunged by incessant demands and a frittering away of my soul to menial tasks.
And I forget. I forget that I'm not the only one muddling around. I let my trials loom over me. And then I think about how silly my trials are and I feel guilty for even calling them trials and I beat myself up even more.
I think, "I should write. I should write. I should remember." And then I think, "Why bother?" That becomes my motto. "Why bother?" I feel powerless. I can't even manage to look presentable.
In the past exercising, a refocus on spirituality, service and goal-setting have helped. But in the moment they feel so silly and pointless. I've made it a year with four kids, and I'm on my way out of this pit; I'm grabbing happiness one rough handful at a time as I climb out of my blues, but I need something to help me keep climbing up from the pit. And I'm choosing writing as my stepping stool. Writing will be my hand hold.
It's been almost 9 months since I wrote my "Summer is Over, Good Riddance" post. It felt bitter and hateful and depressing when I wrote it. Oh so depressing. But, I added the part about not really wanting to remember the bad times, and I posted the good time pictures.
Writing is like a stick on a tightrope, it helps me balance. Writing helps me put things in perspective. Its a reticular activator that reminds me there is good and I choose what I see, what I make of this life. Writing is important.
Purpose and Vision for Excited and Confused Blog, Steph's Space: Connect, Laugh, Dare
1.If you want to be good at something you practice it. This blog is to help me practice my writing, to continue putting one word in front of the other. Anne Lamott said you have to do it "Bird by bird."
2. This blog is a connection to the outside world. It is a jumping off point for conversations with real people. It is a way to connect with other writers, mothers, runners/swimmers/exercisers, women. I can remind myself by blogging that I am not alone--that six-year-olds that have major catastrophe fits, which are awful and hard to deal with, are not unique to me. That other people have trials. That I am not the only sane person here in this house.
3. This blog is a way to keep my sense of humor, to remember that laughing at trials can make them smaller, that laughing burns calories.
How I plan to do this:
I want to start small again, blog once a week at first. Highest hits are on Sundays?
1. How about publishing new content every Friday at 7 a.m.?
2. Content areas: Exercising/Running/Health, Motherhood/Parenting, Writing, Getting out with Kids, Life Survival Skills.
3. Write enough posts to keep me going for a couple months, 8 posts ahead.
4. Instead of eating, I will reward myself during quiet time with blogging. (Maybe eating and blogging, because it is so nice to sit down and eat without doing a stand-up every 10 sec. workout to get things for children)
So now that I've alienated all my readers by not writing for months and months, I'm back at it. Stick around, it's going to be good. :)
My form of the baby blues, occurs about 4-6 months after having the baby, right when I should be pulling it together. Right when I should have the baby figured out, be wearing my old jeans again, sporting a stylish haircut, and be on top of everything. Right when I should be demonstrating my ability to hold it all together, I lose it.
It usually involves feeling like nothing matters. It feels like I have been cast into space and all stars and pricks of light have disappeared. My baby blues are a void. The closest thing I can summon to an emotion is anger, which seems to flash out from me. And while on the outside I mostly hold it together, I am empty---empty from absence, not empty from not being filled.
During my worst times the blackness piles and piles on me--and I wonder if it is possible to be pressed to death by emptiness. I tend to lose my sense of humor and instead of finding laughter and commonality and a sense of community with others, I mutter bitterly, "That's so typical of my life." I feel expunged by incessant demands and a frittering away of my soul to menial tasks.
And I forget. I forget that I'm not the only one muddling around. I let my trials loom over me. And then I think about how silly my trials are and I feel guilty for even calling them trials and I beat myself up even more.
I think, "I should write. I should write. I should remember." And then I think, "Why bother?" That becomes my motto. "Why bother?" I feel powerless. I can't even manage to look presentable.
In the past exercising, a refocus on spirituality, service and goal-setting have helped. But in the moment they feel so silly and pointless. I've made it a year with four kids, and I'm on my way out of this pit; I'm grabbing happiness one rough handful at a time as I climb out of my blues, but I need something to help me keep climbing up from the pit. And I'm choosing writing as my stepping stool. Writing will be my hand hold.
It's been almost 9 months since I wrote my "Summer is Over, Good Riddance" post. It felt bitter and hateful and depressing when I wrote it. Oh so depressing. But, I added the part about not really wanting to remember the bad times, and I posted the good time pictures.
Writing is like a stick on a tightrope, it helps me balance. Writing helps me put things in perspective. Its a reticular activator that reminds me there is good and I choose what I see, what I make of this life. Writing is important.
Purpose and Vision for Excited and Confused Blog, Steph's Space: Connect, Laugh, Dare
1.If you want to be good at something you practice it. This blog is to help me practice my writing, to continue putting one word in front of the other. Anne Lamott said you have to do it "Bird by bird."
2. This blog is a connection to the outside world. It is a jumping off point for conversations with real people. It is a way to connect with other writers, mothers, runners/swimmers/exercisers, women. I can remind myself by blogging that I am not alone--that six-year-olds that have major catastrophe fits, which are awful and hard to deal with, are not unique to me. That other people have trials. That I am not the only sane person here in this house.
3. This blog is a way to keep my sense of humor, to remember that laughing at trials can make them smaller, that laughing burns calories.
How I plan to do this:
I want to start small again, blog once a week at first. Highest hits are on Sundays?
1. How about publishing new content every Friday at 7 a.m.?
2. Content areas: Exercising/Running/Health, Motherhood/Parenting, Writing, Getting out with Kids, Life Survival Skills.
3. Write enough posts to keep me going for a couple months, 8 posts ahead.
4. Instead of eating, I will reward myself during quiet time with blogging. (Maybe eating and blogging, because it is so nice to sit down and eat without doing a stand-up every 10 sec. workout to get things for children)
So now that I've alienated all my readers by not writing for months and months, I'm back at it. Stick around, it's going to be good. :)
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Lost: Sense of Humor
One of my children is going through a very, ummm, how shall we say? Let's say, 'difficult stage.' That way I can tell myself that she is going to outgrow it. And difficult implies that it is not impossible, just incredibly hard, and manageable. I can handle it. And it implies that I will not forever and in perpetuity be holding my hands clenched at my sides, because otherwise those hands might be throttling her.
So, I've lost my sense of humor. Maybe in the future I can relate a hilarious account of why and how I locked myself in the bathroom and cried all my mascara off before family pictures. And someday I will be able to tell you of that oh-so-funny time that my lovely child locked my mother out of the house for a half hour because she wanted some ice cream. Hahaha. I can picture it now, how we'll all be laughing.
But right now I've lost my sense of humor and instead of making you laugh I think I am probably depressing you and making you feel uncomfortable. So here's some funny videos that will have to hold you over until I can find my stinking sense of humor again.
Haha. I think Mike has some bromances going on. Jim Gaffigan nails it. My favorite line: "It's like your drowning and somebody hands you a baby." "I'm going to punch your car."
So, I've lost my sense of humor. Maybe in the future I can relate a hilarious account of why and how I locked myself in the bathroom and cried all my mascara off before family pictures. And someday I will be able to tell you of that oh-so-funny time that my lovely child locked my mother out of the house for a half hour because she wanted some ice cream. Hahaha. I can picture it now, how we'll all be laughing.
But right now I've lost my sense of humor and instead of making you laugh I think I am probably depressing you and making you feel uncomfortable. So here's some funny videos that will have to hold you over until I can find my stinking sense of humor again.
Haha. I think Mike has some bromances going on. Jim Gaffigan nails it. My favorite line: "It's like your drowning and somebody hands you a baby." "I'm going to punch your car."
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Going to Church
Hypothetically, I enjoy going to church. I love listening to the lessons and talks, I enjoy thinking about the Savior. I look forward to taking the sacrament, and I enjoy seeing my friends and neighbors. This is a hypothetical because these things rarely happen the way I picture them. With four small children in my and my husband's charge, I've ended an hour and ten minutes long Sacrament meeting in tears (and not because I felt the Spirit, but because I felt that cheerios spread all over the pew was possibly the last straw in my life), spent the whole meeting in the foyer cajoling an angry, yelling child, and looked longingly at the clock more than once while holding an exhausted-because-it's-naptime child.
For the past eight years, I've learned the same lesson from church: "Endure to the End." (People around our family are probably learning a different lesson about Loving Your Neighbor Even If Their Kids Kick the Pew and Spit Water on Your Suit.) Since having my first child eight years ago on Tuesday, I have gotten the same message every week in one form or another. Since we are LDS (Mormon) and the speakers are different each week, I'm pretty sure that other messages have been presented, but every week I get the same message--"Endure to the End."
Today was especially harrowing as it was our two hour Stake Conference. The speakers were prepared and entertaining with relevant messages (At least that's what I thought from the few sentences I managed to catch between constant demands for a sucker punctuated with the two-year-old trying to get a concussion by violently laying backwards on my lap; reverently reminding the eight-year-old to use her quiet voice and not sing opera style during the hymns; Mike and I constantly pushing the chairs forward that had crept into the knees of the people behind us, and taking turns rubbing the five-year-old's back and reassuring her that it would all be over soon in an attempt to keep her from throwing herself on the floor in an all-out fit of hunger and boredom.)
We brought snacks, but apparently you need to bring five times as many snacks as for a regular meeting. Crayons were good for about 20 minutes, and at the end when the two-year-old dumped them all over the floor Mike declared, "You are all allowed one crayon apiece next time." And one sliver of bread and a straightjacket with muzzle attachment.
With five minutes to go, my six-year-old niece who had been quietly coloring in her chair came over to Hannah and whispered sweetly, "Hannah, I have good news! There are only five minutes left!" That good news was almost as good as the Gospel, but not quite. Which is why we keep going back to learn the same lesson, armed with cheerios. In a world that tears families apart and that teaches that the most important thing in life is gratifying your selfish self, the LDS Church is a harbor and a safe haven for our family. Mike and I know that at church is the best place to find answers to how to raise your kids. And even if the only lesson I learn each week happens to be "Endure to the End," that's not a bad lesson to learn.
For the past eight years, I've learned the same lesson from church: "Endure to the End." (People around our family are probably learning a different lesson about Loving Your Neighbor Even If Their Kids Kick the Pew and Spit Water on Your Suit.) Since having my first child eight years ago on Tuesday, I have gotten the same message every week in one form or another. Since we are LDS (Mormon) and the speakers are different each week, I'm pretty sure that other messages have been presented, but every week I get the same message--"Endure to the End."
Today was especially harrowing as it was our two hour Stake Conference. The speakers were prepared and entertaining with relevant messages (At least that's what I thought from the few sentences I managed to catch between constant demands for a sucker punctuated with the two-year-old trying to get a concussion by violently laying backwards on my lap; reverently reminding the eight-year-old to use her quiet voice and not sing opera style during the hymns; Mike and I constantly pushing the chairs forward that had crept into the knees of the people behind us, and taking turns rubbing the five-year-old's back and reassuring her that it would all be over soon in an attempt to keep her from throwing herself on the floor in an all-out fit of hunger and boredom.)
We brought snacks, but apparently you need to bring five times as many snacks as for a regular meeting. Crayons were good for about 20 minutes, and at the end when the two-year-old dumped them all over the floor Mike declared, "You are all allowed one crayon apiece next time." And one sliver of bread and a straightjacket with muzzle attachment.
With five minutes to go, my six-year-old niece who had been quietly coloring in her chair came over to Hannah and whispered sweetly, "Hannah, I have good news! There are only five minutes left!" That good news was almost as good as the Gospel, but not quite. Which is why we keep going back to learn the same lesson, armed with cheerios. In a world that tears families apart and that teaches that the most important thing in life is gratifying your selfish self, the LDS Church is a harbor and a safe haven for our family. Mike and I know that at church is the best place to find answers to how to raise your kids. And even if the only lesson I learn each week happens to be "Endure to the End," that's not a bad lesson to learn.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
New Years Goals
I'm about 25 days behind in my life right now. And really, I think my new year will begin March 16, when Norah turns one and the breastfeeding ends. Finito! It makes me happy just to think about it. Because I'm pretty sure all my problems will end with the end of my self-imposed time schedule of breastfeeding.
Knees? They will miraculously heal and I will be running a 19 minute 5K by June.
Writer's Block? I will be running again so that will take care of that.
Bad Mommy-ing? I'm sure that will be solved when breastfeeding ends.
Yelling? I'm sure it's directly correlated to a chemical released while breastfeeding.
Not enough time in the day to get everything done? Not breastfeeding will free up at least 1 hour a day, right? And in that hour I'll do a load of laundry, load the dishwasher, create a small craft, and read my scriptures. Since that is what I do with free hours around here, in reverse order of course. I never just sit and stare at the wall, or watch Downton Abbey, or make myself a cup of hot chocolate and relish the silence-ABSOLUTE SILENCE--when I get a free hour. I am always very productive.
I do have some New Years Goals which are totally measurable and have deadlines:
1. Be More Awesome--Deadline: midnight March 16, 2013
2. Eat less crap (not real crap, but you know sugar and fat and all things that make life worth living, like chocolate. Although I'm sure I've accidentally ingested some sort of crap since I have changed thousands of diapers. Now excuse me while I throw up a little.)-- Deadline for completion: Tomorrow, always tomorrow
3. Get out of bed--Deadline: 6:30 a.m., every morning.
4. Cut Ellie's bedtime routine down from 1.5 hours to 10 minutes. Seriously, that child can milk a bedtime like no other. Deadline: Jan 28, 2013
5. Beat Mike in the Spudman. Deadline: July 27,.2013 If only I can figure out my knees. Oh, wait. That's going to be solved on March 16, so watch out Mikey-boy! I love you, but your reign will end.
Knees? They will miraculously heal and I will be running a 19 minute 5K by June.
Writer's Block? I will be running again so that will take care of that.
Bad Mommy-ing? I'm sure that will be solved when breastfeeding ends.
Yelling? I'm sure it's directly correlated to a chemical released while breastfeeding.
Not enough time in the day to get everything done? Not breastfeeding will free up at least 1 hour a day, right? And in that hour I'll do a load of laundry, load the dishwasher, create a small craft, and read my scriptures. Since that is what I do with free hours around here, in reverse order of course. I never just sit and stare at the wall, or watch Downton Abbey, or make myself a cup of hot chocolate and relish the silence-ABSOLUTE SILENCE--when I get a free hour. I am always very productive.
I do have some New Years Goals which are totally measurable and have deadlines:
1. Be More Awesome--Deadline: midnight March 16, 2013
2. Eat less crap (not real crap, but you know sugar and fat and all things that make life worth living, like chocolate. Although I'm sure I've accidentally ingested some sort of crap since I have changed thousands of diapers. Now excuse me while I throw up a little.)-- Deadline for completion: Tomorrow, always tomorrow
3. Get out of bed--Deadline: 6:30 a.m., every morning.
4. Cut Ellie's bedtime routine down from 1.5 hours to 10 minutes. Seriously, that child can milk a bedtime like no other. Deadline: Jan 28, 2013
5. Beat Mike in the Spudman. Deadline: July 27,.2013 If only I can figure out my knees. Oh, wait. That's going to be solved on March 16, so watch out Mikey-boy! I love you, but your reign will end.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Playing in the Snow
Sometimes raising children is like walking through the desert, half-delusional with thirst. You certainly think that's a shady tree and a nice cool pond of water just over there in the distance, and if you can just keep going, you might reach it. But then you find yourself thirstily shoveling sand into your mouth.
Today we decided to go and play in the snow. No school + tons of snow=fun, right? I was at least smart enough to tuck Norah into her crib for her morning nap before venturing into the land of gloves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous snow items. With her safely dreaming away, I grabbed all the snow stuff from the back of the van (because what better place to store your snow clothes?) and began assigning boots, coats, gloves, hats, scarves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous items.
Kenzie, the seven-year-old-almost-eight, was pretty good at getting her own stuff on. So she went at it, while Hannah (5) was able to put on her snow pants and coat but was waiting (somewhat impatiently) for me to help her find a sock. (Since I have yet to purchase my 270 pairs of socks to make my life easier.) Ellie (2) is still hopeless at dressing herself. So I tried very patiently to stuff her in her snow pants, put on her scarf, push on her hat, pull on her gloves, and maneuver her boots into a walking position. Then, since we got the girls gaiters for Christmas, I had to put on her gaiters. They are quite nice for keeping out the snow, but take some time to put on. Kenzie began bugging me to help her get her gaiters on. I gave Ellie a small lecture about her hands falling off if she took her gloves off and then turned to Kenzie.
I was already sweating, but managed to not speak crossly as I finished stuffing Kenzie's oversized snow pants into her gaiters, wrestled the velcro shut, and then ran upstairs to find a sock for Hannah.
I was trying to preserve my mood because this was going to be FUN! We were going to build snowmen! Walk in our snowshoes! Lay in the snow! Pull each other in the sled! FUN! FUN! FUN!
Next Hannah. Her boots were bugging her, so I pulled them off and readjusted the liner.
Kenzie was ready so she started trying to open the door. With her mittens on, this was impossible.
"Mom. Can I go out now? Can I go out now? Can I go out now?"
"Yes." I said smiling. Fun mom. Fun mom. "You and Ellie can go out if you keep an eye on her. Ellie don't take your gloves off! It will hurt really bad. Badly. Whatever. Don't take them off." I interrupted fixing Hannah's boots to open the door. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it had taken 20 minutes already to get ready for this adventure.
I put Hannah's boot back on. "It's bugging me! It's bugging me!"
Five sock and boot/snow pants adjustments later I began to be cross. Just as I pulled on Hannah's last glove and patted her on the head to send her out the door, Ellie pushed the door open, the door handle hitting into my back as I was trying to pull up my snow pants.
"I'm all done. I come in now."
"Oh no you're not!" I retorted, shutting the door on my sweet two-year-old. "I want to come outside and I'm almost ready."
"I cold! I come in!"
"No!" I said desperately, my vision of fun in the snow evaporating in the face of the reality of the attention span of a toddler. I glanced at the clock. She'd been out for 10 minutes-- half the time it took to get her ready.
I use my prowess at bargaining to try to win at least a few minutes of my child-mommy-snow-love-fest vision: "I'll bring out some fruit snacks!"
I throw on the rest of my snow gear and run upstairs for fruit snacks. I grab a water bottle for good measure and run outside. I am ready for FUN! EXCITEMENT! JOY! GOOD MOM-NESS!
"M-om! My gloves are falling off," claims a frustrated Hannah.
"Will you put these snow shoes on me?" says Kenzie.
"Fruit snack! Fruit snack! I want a fruit snack!" says Ellie.
I snap. "I just want to play in the snow! Just give me a minute! You guys are asking too much of me! Here's your dang fruit snacks! Can we just play in the snow for one minute without anyone asking me for something?"
"But M-om, you said. . ."
"I'm cooooooold. I want to go inside."
"It's bugging me!"
"THAT'S IT! I'M GOING INSIDE!"
Everyone starts crying. Good Mom-ness abounds.
Eventually I apologize to my children for my little fit, I send Ellie inside to watch Sesame Street, and Hannah and Kenzie and I make tracks with their snowshoes, fall in the snow, and build a small snow fort.
It wasn't exactly the oasis I was dreaming of, but it was better than a mouth full of sand.
Today we decided to go and play in the snow. No school + tons of snow=fun, right? I was at least smart enough to tuck Norah into her crib for her morning nap before venturing into the land of gloves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous snow items. With her safely dreaming away, I grabbed all the snow stuff from the back of the van (because what better place to store your snow clothes?) and began assigning boots, coats, gloves, hats, scarves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous items.
Kenzie, the seven-year-old-almost-eight, was pretty good at getting her own stuff on. So she went at it, while Hannah (5) was able to put on her snow pants and coat but was waiting (somewhat impatiently) for me to help her find a sock. (Since I have yet to purchase my 270 pairs of socks to make my life easier.) Ellie (2) is still hopeless at dressing herself. So I tried very patiently to stuff her in her snow pants, put on her scarf, push on her hat, pull on her gloves, and maneuver her boots into a walking position. Then, since we got the girls gaiters for Christmas, I had to put on her gaiters. They are quite nice for keeping out the snow, but take some time to put on. Kenzie began bugging me to help her get her gaiters on. I gave Ellie a small lecture about her hands falling off if she took her gloves off and then turned to Kenzie.
I was already sweating, but managed to not speak crossly as I finished stuffing Kenzie's oversized snow pants into her gaiters, wrestled the velcro shut, and then ran upstairs to find a sock for Hannah.
I was trying to preserve my mood because this was going to be FUN! We were going to build snowmen! Walk in our snowshoes! Lay in the snow! Pull each other in the sled! FUN! FUN! FUN!
Next Hannah. Her boots were bugging her, so I pulled them off and readjusted the liner.
Kenzie was ready so she started trying to open the door. With her mittens on, this was impossible.
"Mom. Can I go out now? Can I go out now? Can I go out now?"
"Yes." I said smiling. Fun mom. Fun mom. "You and Ellie can go out if you keep an eye on her. Ellie don't take your gloves off! It will hurt really bad. Badly. Whatever. Don't take them off." I interrupted fixing Hannah's boots to open the door. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it had taken 20 minutes already to get ready for this adventure.
I put Hannah's boot back on. "It's bugging me! It's bugging me!"
Five sock and boot/snow pants adjustments later I began to be cross. Just as I pulled on Hannah's last glove and patted her on the head to send her out the door, Ellie pushed the door open, the door handle hitting into my back as I was trying to pull up my snow pants.
"I'm all done. I come in now."
"Oh no you're not!" I retorted, shutting the door on my sweet two-year-old. "I want to come outside and I'm almost ready."
"I cold! I come in!"
"No!" I said desperately, my vision of fun in the snow evaporating in the face of the reality of the attention span of a toddler. I glanced at the clock. She'd been out for 10 minutes-- half the time it took to get her ready.
I use my prowess at bargaining to try to win at least a few minutes of my child-mommy-snow-love-fest vision: "I'll bring out some fruit snacks!"
I throw on the rest of my snow gear and run upstairs for fruit snacks. I grab a water bottle for good measure and run outside. I am ready for FUN! EXCITEMENT! JOY! GOOD MOM-NESS!
"M-om! My gloves are falling off," claims a frustrated Hannah.
"Will you put these snow shoes on me?" says Kenzie.
"Fruit snack! Fruit snack! I want a fruit snack!" says Ellie.
I snap. "I just want to play in the snow! Just give me a minute! You guys are asking too much of me! Here's your dang fruit snacks! Can we just play in the snow for one minute without anyone asking me for something?"
"But M-om, you said. . ."
"I'm cooooooold. I want to go inside."
"It's bugging me!"
"THAT'S IT! I'M GOING INSIDE!"
Everyone starts crying. Good Mom-ness abounds.
Eventually I apologize to my children for my little fit, I send Ellie inside to watch Sesame Street, and Hannah and Kenzie and I make tracks with their snowshoes, fall in the snow, and build a small snow fort.
It wasn't exactly the oasis I was dreaming of, but it was better than a mouth full of sand.
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