Pure Delight!

He's ours :)

Now I lay me down to sleep...

At bedtime..."Thank you Jesus for mommy, and daddy, and Paul. Thank you Jesus for Nonna and Grandpa, for Mimi and Poppy, for Uncle Sean, and my kitty...and my cousins...and my toys...and for my Thomas Engine, and for my dinosaur blanket, and for my Lightening McQueen car..."

Mom yawns, "Okay, Luke, it's time for bed."

"No, no I'm not done. Thank you Jesus for my....for my....for my...door. Thank you Jesus for my...for my...for my...curtains."

"Um, yeah. Goodnight, Luke!"

*I LOVE LAMP*

Magnificat anima mea Dominum

Adornments

Something, or rather Someone, is (appropriately) missing from our Nativity. In the meantime, Come Let Us Adore....coasters?

Admission.

I haven't even started Christmas shopping. I can't cross a single person, including my own children, off of my Christmas shopping list.

You might be thinking, "Oh, Hesitant Homemaker, surely since you only work outside the home maybe 16 hours a month you must have all the time in the world to shop!"

Not so fast!

I suppose that I could go shopping in the middle of the week, kids in tow, when the stores aren't nearly as busy as the weekends, I just have no desire to. It's not that I think I can't or that the kids are too crazy or that I'm a procrastinator. None of those things.

There's just something about the fun of shopping that has fizzled out over the years. Could it be that I don't like to shop? That seems almost wrong to even write about! I like clothes, and I used to like to shop for clothes, but as time goes by I've come to buy my clothes exclusively online. Last Christmas we bought every last gift online--with free shipping.

This year we redeemed some of our credit card points for specialty gift cards. Being that we live in the middle of nowhere, we'll have to take a day to travel to make sure the boys are covered for Christmas. We'll be cutting it a little close and are hoping that Toys-R-Us stocks Gordon the Useful Engine and a Parasoralophus, but I'm trying not to stress about it.

What a funny concept that as children we counted down the days until Christmas! We were just joking yesterday how we wished Advent were six weeks long!

***UPDATE*** I am thankful for Nanny, who loves to shop, and on the day I loathe about having to shop, I get a get a package full of beautiful Christmas clothes for my boys. They'll be well-dressed on Christmas :)

Are you ready for Christmas?

There's somethig about him...

I know, I know, you could eat him right up.

House Art

My Christmas Mantle. (Just because Kendall was so gosh-darn impressed)

Signs of the Season

I had a treat waiting for Luke after he made tracks with his boots outside in the snow.

A "good mommy" moment :)

Positive Progress

Way back in the day I used to write a Wednesday post-baby update. In late August when I had a medical scare I really got off track and stopped worrying about little things like baby weight. I stopped blogging for a time and just focused on the kids and our home life.

Since we've had a tough week and my posts have a negative vibe, I'll spruce things up a bit by saying that, after 8 months, I'm happy to report that I'm 45 pounds lighter than I was nine months ago!!!!

I'm done!!!

The funny thing is that even though I was running like crazy and watching what I was eating, I've realized that it was really more an issue of time as opposed to anything that I was going. I dropped a lot right away, held on to some for almost six months, and then dropped a lot again. I don't understand it, but I'm just glad that I was patient instead of racing to lose every pound as fast as I could.

Didn't I say something about "nine months on, nine months off?"

:)

All The Live Long Day!

It certainly feels like I'm running a train station!

This weekend we chopped down a Christmas tree that would make Clark Griswold proud. And, while I wish I could say I was filled with Christmas cheer, the fun of decorating our tree and making our house bright and merry has totally overwhelmed me this year.

Sometimes your plate just gets too full!

Trying to get to the bottom of his digestive issues, PJ had to be brought in twice for blood work over the weekend. Today I had to take him in for a barium enema. There's nothing like two nurses holding down your screaming eight month old to rack your nerves. To top it off, PJ has a nasty chest cold, which has congested him so badly that he can't sleep in his crib. For the last two days (and nights) he's been upright in our arms, miserable from all his boogers.

When it rains, it pours, and our perfect darling, Luke, has been a three year old terror to boot! The wrath of three comes in waves, I think, and just when I think I have the most mild-mannered, loving and well-disciplined boy in the land, I have a day that proves quite to the contrary. At least the cat still has his tail...

I'm tired and cranky and can't seem to get it together this week long enough to make a decent dinner for my family or run a load of laundry so we can wear socks with our winter boots.

Have I mentioned that I feel the beginnings of mastitis coming on?

Oh boy.

I'm going to take a deep breath, make some hot tea, put on the Vienna Boys Choir and then, realistically, try to get some stuff done...all with baby in tow and the three year old begging for another candy cane off of the tree.

I know I have some chocolate around here somewhere...

Prehysteria

Hoe is the resident scape-goat in our family. A mouth-retracting T-Rex affectionately named "Hoe" by Luke, Hoe has been a bad influencer from the start. After a naughty word, we'll ask Luke were he heard such a word, "Hoe said it," he'll answer. When asking why Luke pushed his baby brother, he'll reply, "Hoe did it."

Hoe's one terrible T-Rex.

Last night Mark wasn't home for dinner, which means Luke gets to decide what we'll eat. His choice, Velveeta Shells and Cheese. Kinda gross, but one of his favorites, and I'm willing to give consolations when he doesn't get to see daddy at dinner.

"Mom," Luke asked, "Can Hoe eat your Shells and Cheese?"

"No, Luke, he may not," I answered.

"Well, Hoe is NOT a carnivore," Luke replied.

"Yes, he is, Luke. He's a T-Rex and he eats meat."

"He IS a T-Rex, but he's not a carnivore, he's a Velveeta Shells and Cheesiore."

How can I compete with this?

Close-Up

My sweet Paul

Resignation

My house will never be clean, and if I clean it, the evidence will be gone in the morning.

A nice dinner will always be interrupted by a boy who insists he doesn't like applesauce, or a baby who can't sit another minute in the constrictive highchair.

Getting out of the house will never be easy, my hair will always be pulled back, and once we're in the car I most definitely will have broken a sweat.

The laundry will never be done, someone will wet the bed the day I change the sheets, and a perfect planned phone call during naptime will be the one day that the kids revolt their rest.

There will never be enough time to do anything.

However, while it's never easy and there's never enough, I think I get the good end of the deal.

:)

Bathtime Shenanigans

Armed and ready for battle.

Thanksgiving for Preschoolers

Preparing to have a Thanksgiving tomorrow with fifteen children nine and under, the families that are getting together have a few projects to keep the nieces and nephews occupied. Here's mine.

Luke cutting and pasting our turkey


"Feathers" to put on our turkey.


A "do it yourself" turkey body


I have hundreds of magazine clippings for the kids to glue what they are thankful for on their turkey feathers.


Luke's "tester" turkey feather. I see he has a monopoly on Lightening McQueen.



My turkey feather.


Our family turkey should look something like this!

Dear Retail Giants,

I really do not appreciate you stealing my family's Thanksgiving. We've read books about pilgrims, colored a picture of The Mayflower, and learned that the Native Americans taught the pilgrims to plant corn. Then, as a family, we excitedly anticipated Thanksgiving dinner, and have made grocery lists to get ingredients for our favorite pies. We've planned Thanksgiving Day projects for the children to do, to remind them to Give Thanks for all they have been blessed with.

And then you stole it.

We walked into Target last weekend bombarded with a "Merry Christmas" sign. The aisles of Wal-Mart are smothered with cinnamon-scented pine cones, Christmas movies, and lit-up trees. A full-sized tree is in our shopping mall, and Santa has already made numerous stops.

Did I miss something? My three-year old has been begging Santa for Gordon the train and Spike the walking dinosaur for at least the last month, without any prompting of mine about what he wants for Christmas.

News Flash: It's not yet Christmas. It's not yet Advent. It's not yet Thanksgiving.

Could we PLEASE just celebrate Thanksgiving? Is that too much to ask?

Obsessed

Mark and I watched our first Bollywood movie this weekend. We loved it. Now, we're a little obsessed about it. We didn't have Luke watch it (it's subtitled, among other things,) but we showed him this scene. And now we watch this scene over, and over, and over again. Haven't decided yet if downloading the soundtrack was a good idea or not, but still, super fun. Watching this video is worth it if you haven't seen it before.

The context of this clip is different 'tribes' of India coming to give thanks to the emperor for lifting a religious tax. Then, his wife of a different religion returns after an absence, thankful for his care of her people. Paul even dances. The movie, Jodhaa Akbar.

Entertainment

Courtesy of my mom. I'm not one to start the Christmas season until Advent, however, I couldn't resist this one :) .

What Three Looks Like

Now that Luke has all his colors, shapes and letters down, I have a game plan to keep him cognitively stimulated during these cold months indoors. Other than the read-alouds, here's what three looks like at our house.

We spend lots of time coloring on white paper and in coloring books. Markers are the media of choice :)


Our designated "Craft Basket," we keep markers, crayons, colored pencils, safety scissors, a glue stick, coloring books, construction paper, and a preschool curriculum book to tote around the house. It usually ends up on our dining room table, but it's nice to have everything in one place.


This is Luke's "Portfolio," which really just dubs as a keepsake binder in disguise. After Luke masters a skill, we put proof of it in his portfolio. It's quite fun to watch how much they learn and improve every month!


Only the very best makes it on the fridge.

A Big Whoopsie.

It's Monday, it's cold, and the kids are cranky.
We have had a terrible cold for almost a week and today we want to stay put.
Luke refuses to get dressed and PJ won't let me put him down.

I just checked the time and counted down the hours (1 hour and 15 minutes) until I can justifiably crack open a can of diet coke.

In eager anticipation, I check the fridge to make sure I have a cold one waiting for me.

However, there are none left.

Despair is setting in...

UPDATE: He saved the day, and I gave him a big hug when he walked in with a case at lunchtime. I think the sun just came out...

Thank you, Mark :)

Preferences

"Luke, take off your jammies and get your clothes on."
Luke spies the jeans on the floor
"Mom, I don't wear pants that have a zipper."
"Okay," I say as I march upstairs and bring down a pair of blue sweatpants.
"Mom," Luke says nicely, "But my pants need to have pockets."

He's still in his jammies.

It's Friday?

We're recovering here...although not all better. :(


For the weekend, I'll direct you to a friend's blog. She doesn't blog about arbitrary nonsense like me, she blogs because she's about to deliver a very special baby in less than two weeks. And, since she's probably the most likable person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, you can imagine that everyone wants updates on her and her little girl.

Keep them in your prayers as she and her family continue their journey and soon start another.

Laura & Paul's blog for their new baby

And so it begins...

We're sick today. The little boys and I are down for the count. Luke being Luke, this means that I will predictably be cleaning up puke by the end of the day...mark my words.

My goal today will be to ration the last can of apple juice and to rally the kids long enough to get to Wal-Mart for some Benadryl.

This is our first sickness of the season. Here we go...

This is it, don't get scared now.

When I put this sweater on Luke, Mark called him "Kevin" for the rest of day.

Apparently the sweater is a little dated, a bit 1990 to be exact.

The funny thing is that he's exactly right.

Neglect

A Santa hat in November
Bare legs
An unbuttoned jumpsuit
No bib
A messy face
Doesn't anyone take care of you, sweet Paul?

Marvel

There is a moment, after the kids have been asleep for awhile, when you've forgotten all the troubles of the day. The bag of cat food that spilled all over the kitchen floor, the baby that would not nap properly, and the tantrum over the last fruit roll-up seem like distant memories after the second hour the children have been asleep.

Exhausted from the work of the day, you cannot resist one more peek, one more kiss, one more marvel at the miracle of life. You breathe in the matted hair of a toddler and the warm cheeks of an infant as if, even after a day without them for a moment, you still can't seem to get quite enough.

In that instant, the challenges of the day seem to disappear, and, overcome with love, all that your heart can say is "Thank you, Jesus."

Let's Name Our Dog!

No, we don't have a dog. Not yet.

Late in August one night I got an itch, a bug, or a case of the crazies if we're really getting specific. All of a sudden, as if I didn't have enough chaos in my life, I really wanted a dog.

The type of dog that we have deemed perfect for our family could be a blog post unto itself (which it will be) and in turn makes me a new breed (no pun intended) of off-your-rocker insane. Rather, I'm posting today about the funnest game our family has ever played, which, coincidentally, is the next step after you decide what kind of dog best suits your family.

Our game: "Let's name our dog!"

We're getting a big dog. A working dog. A giant. Having said that, we have spent hours,yes, hours and hours and hours tossing names back and forth around the dinner table, on car trips, walks, and after bedtime stories. We're out of control.

Having a three-year-old boy with parents who are gluttons for potty-talk, Luke has already exhausted his toilet-themed dog names, which include "Let's name our dog Diaper," "Poopy Pants," and "Booger."

My names are not lacking in creativity, but are slightly more appropriate and include "Norman," "Pharaoh," and "Optimus Prime."

Mark prefers "real" names and leans more toward the Scandinavian persuasion. He would vouch for a name like "Bjorn," although, I don't think Dante is out the question (not all Vikings are of Norwegian descent.) (Do you get that? Did you laugh?)

We are months (at least) from any animal additions in our household, but it's still fun to talk about. Someone should make me stop this silliness.

Oh Boy.

This sums these two up pretty well, I'd say.

My life...

is SO glamorous.

Santa, please...

We're not really going to start on Christmas yet, but yesterday Luke told me he was going to ask Santa for an Anatosaurus and a Giganotosaurus.

I swear, we really don't push the dinosaur thing, it just happened. Now, we're on a nearly two-year kick with no end in sight.

Oh, For Cute!

Luke made me this tower yesterday. Lucky, huh? It spent most of the day on the living room coffee table. At the end of the day when I attempted to put the mega block tower back into its mega block container, I got a harsh protest.

"It doesn't go there, mommy dear," Luke explained, "It belongs on your night stand," where he then proceeded to march and place the tower eloquently at my bedside.

I think it's lovely.

It Pays to Save

What did I do on my recent sabbatical, you might wonder?
Well, for starters, I tried many things for the first time. Much like I did last year, as soon as the first chilly day of October hits and we realize, once again, that we'll be bound indoors for nearly the next six months, I get the itch to cook new things that will warm the house.

My first new venture this fall was to attempt to make, and then perfect, my own spaghetti sauce. You may confused as to what the title of this post and spaghetti sauce have in common, don't fret dear, I'm here to share.

I have been on a mission for the last four years to find ways to live fully yet frugally. This quest has led to coupon clipping, detergent-making, cloth diapering, clothesline hanging, plastic around every window in the winter and freezer meals galore.

It Pays To Save: SPAGHETTI NIGHT

A once weekly spaghetti night has saved not only a great deal of money, but also time in planning out meals. A Monday or Thursday spaghetti night works best for us, and here's how we make it work.

1. I make my own spaghetti sauce--in bulk! I buy whole-peeled and crushed tomatoes by the case on Amazon. I get free shipping and then an additional 35% discount by subscribing to the order every six months. I buy onions and garlic at the store, spend a day at home simmering, and Viola! I have a momentous amount a red sauce. I freeze portions into freezer bags, cool whip containers, or whatever I can find, and use when needed. It's always easy to add meat, too, if that's what we want that night.



It's a big pot!



Simma down now!

2. About once a month on a Monday morning I'll pack up the kids and head to Wal-Mart. I'm there for the day-old bakery bread. At .90 cents a loaf, this bread is awesome. Baguette-shaped and sliced, our family eats half a loaf with dinner in many varieties such as Parmesan garlic or crusted red pepper.

3. And, in case your intrigued, this is the pasta I subscribe to on Amazon. It whole grain, plus flax and Omega-3's. It's more expensive than the durum wheat or egg noodles that you buy at the grocery store, however, I can save 35% buy subscribing to the order. For me, I don't mind the extra cost because of the health benefits of whole grain.

Have You Heard?

The news is that I'm coming back tomorrow!

I'm going to try and stick with things a little better this time around, I just needed a break to form a better routine at home. Blogging just had to go for a little while. I'm hoping now that life is a bit more ordered and I have a better handle on things at home that blogging shouldn't get in the way of what we already do on a regular basis.

See you soon!

:)

Sabbatical

I haven't been lazy or have dried of all things bloggable, I'm just busy.
The truth is, there are just far too many things that I want to do right now, and sitting on the computer typing away just isn't one of them. The fall has found me in full swing of so many activities that I'm really enjoying, but that also take up a lot of my time. Between taking the kids to the library, farmer's market, and playgroups, and then my desire to spend more time at the piano, our church Bible study, and reading those books I've left on the shelf since the baby was born, I don't have a minute to spare.

I'll be back...sometime. For now, I'm just enjoying my life, it's full and fulfilling.

Pax.

We're Home!

And we miss the mountains already! We're detoxing today and trying to get back in the swing of things, thankful for our time away but happy to be home safe!

Blogger Break

I'm off! I'll be back in a week. The blogess and her family are going on a vacation. We're all looking forward to it...I think we all need some time from the hustle and bustle.
Off to Big Sky we go!!

Funk

Monday was one of the days, a perfect storm of exhaustion, frustration, lack of patience and a full plate of tasks to complete. After breaking our routine and working all weekend, Monday morning was a flurry of laundry catch-up, grocery replenishing and trying to get back into our general daily groove.

It wasn't working. My three year old was not cooperating. Luke, who I admit is quite a good boy and very responsive to our discipline techniques, would have none of my instruction or correction. Whenever he behaves this way I'm always looking for a culprit, "That's not my Luke," I'll say to him, and then rack my brain for a cause to his naughtiness.

I attribute Luke's behavior to these things, and in this order, 1. Lack of attention 2. Lack of Sleep 3. Diet 4. Influence of other children. I'd say he fit the first three requirements quite nicely. To add to the mayhem, I myself was tired and felt that I had significant 'catch-up' to do around the house. A recipe for disaster.

By noon my buttons were pressed, and by six o'clock I truly lost it with him. So what did we do? Took a step back and tried to get back on track. No blogging, no to-do lists, no cartoons, no fruit snacks or boxed macaroni. Now, on Wednesday morning things are going much better. Only time will tell what the day has in store, because now I REALLY have things to do, but I think Mr. Compliant will be a bit more cooperative now that I have my bearings down a little better.

Everyone has bad days, both moms and children. Monday was one of them, Tuesday was one too, but I have hope for today. After all, I'm blogging, right? So something must be going right!

A daddy thing.

I laid the outfits out the night before: two matching shirts, pants, socks, shoes.
I showered that morning, time running out, thankful at my planning ahead.
Baby was sleeping in the crib in his onsie, "Please get the big boy dressed," I called, "Clothes are sitting on the couch."
I hustle into church clothes, clasp my shoes and wake the baby to get dressed.
"We're ready and waiting in the car," he calls, we might just make it on time, I think to myself.
I grab baby's clothes on the couch, change his diaper and start getting him dressed.
Shirt is swimming on him. Tag says 3T.
Run to the car, idling in the garage.
Take the big boy out of the booster, look at his tag; 6 months.
We were late.


How??

What is Love?

If you've ever read A Severe Mercy, by Sheldon VanAuken, even if you don't remember all of the details, you're left with the understanding that Sheldon loved Davy very much. Describing the type of love they shared for each other he gave the example that love was "a glass of water in the night," meaning that he loved her so much that, if she asked, he would lovingly get out of bed in the night to get her a drink of water.

In our house I would like to propose another example.

This morning we were up early, and to our horror the coffee beans were gone! Quickly falling into a state of despair and hysterics I began to question my ability to get through the day, let alone the hour without my whole beans for the grind-n-brew.

But, never fear, Mark is here! Without so much as a beg, Mark pulled on a sweatshirt and left for Wal-Mart to buy a pound of Seattle's best.

Six-thirty in the morning, jammie pants to Wal-Mart to get coffee for Mal. Now, that's love. We drank the whole pot!

Review: Dressing with Dignity

Phew. I had a hay-day with my latest reviewing item from The Catholic Company. A few weeks ago I had an intense discussion with a friend about morality, modesty and standards for Catholic dress. The book Dressing with Dignity came up to review, and not having read it, I was excited to select it as my next item from The Catholic Company.

Dressing with Dignity is a Catholic manifesto stressing the importance and theological basis for Catholic female dress. Although the back of the book quotes, "Given the circulation it deserves, Dressing with Dignity has the potential to rout the fashion world's penchant for giving women little choice of chic yet modest attire...," the target audience for this book is solely orthodox Catholic women. As much as I would love a wider audience to read about modesty and virtue, let's be honest, how many readers are you going to lose when the author explains that you will go to Hell for all eternity if you have a mortal sin from the repercussions from immodest dress?

The big bomb shell of Dressing with Dignity is this: As a female, dressing modestly doesn't mean keeping improper body parts covered and looking generally presentable at all times. On the contrary, the author claims that pants worn by females is immodest. The author spends the entire book defending why skirts and dresses are the only modest clothing in the eyes of the Church.

The book does have great quotes from past Popes, Saints, and philosophers such as Alice von Hildebrand and Padre Pio. The quotes are insightful and definitely are cause for reflection. Anyone today, Catholic or Protestant, Christian, Jew, Atheist, etc. would probably argue that many women dress disrespectfully for themselves and those around them. The author also stresses the importance of femininity; looking and behaving presentable so as to honor yourself and the family. I couldn't agree more and was further convicted that appearances, while not stressing them, do give impressions to others, and that it is important to present yourself in the way you want to perceived.

Where the book starts to get fuzzy for me are the arguments for women to wear skirts or dresses, and that all forms of pants are immodest, or even a skirt with any form of a slit. The author has some compelling testimony from Padre Pio and past Popes, but at the same time, the bottom line is there isn't, nor will there ever be specific standards for dress dictated from the Church.

Also, the author leaves out practical uses for wearing pants, capris or shorts. What about exercise, riding a bike, pulling weeds from the garden? What about moms who are always on the floor playing with children and changing diapers and find that skirts are often too binding or revealing? What about in places like Minnesota where it can get so stinking cold that leaving the house with a skirt would be crazy?

The author has an extensive appendix in the back of the book with resources to find modest dress. As someone who generally wears skirts more frequently than pants, I was very open to exploring the websites the author suggested. The list of websites leaves much to be desired. First, many of the websites are broken, and one address led me to a website with provocatively posed women--not what you want in a modesty book!

The biggest problem I have with this book is the fashion standard the author has, as evidenced by the websites presented in the appendix. The dresses are old-fashioned. I would label many as "Pioneer" or "Prairie" style, and am convinced that I would draw much more unwanted attention wearing such dated clothes than a simple pair of khakis pants.

I don't want to slam this book, because I believe the message is a good one, it's just extreme. I'm finding that the older I get the more comfortable I am in skirts anyway, so maybe someday I'll make the plunge. I think Dressing with Dignity definitely deserves reading and reflection, just with a grain of salt.

To attach, or NOT to attach? That is the question.

I'm going to get in trouble for this. I should just stop typing right now, but I can't help myself. I was reading a facebook note from a new father, gushing about his new baby and his and his wife's parenting style. He felt compelled to share it with the world because of how many people comment on what a content, happy child they have. The whole note focused on Attachment Parenting (AP), coined by Dr. William Sears, a popular pediatrician and author.

AP is a parenting method with the objective of intentional bonding with your baby by using traditional methods, i.e., breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby-wearing, sole mothering, and responding to your baby's cues for comfort (crying). Sears claims this makes for a happier baby because of the intense mother/baby relationship.

I don't have a problem with AP practices, in fact, I practice every one of them to one extent or another. I think AP intentions are good, especially in this culture where you're made to believe that a baby needs so much STUFF to be a successful infant. Dr. Sears wants mothers to stop putting their little boogers in baby containers and to get them where they really want to be--their arms.

I agree there's most a problem today with high-tech, distant mothers whose bond with their infant is inadequate, and as a result Dr. Sears implemented common-sense, instinctual practices and commercialized them. Here's where I think AP gets it wrong; the claims of a happy-go-lucky bambino as a result of the security he gets from his in-tune, attentive mother.

My argument is this: What if you can never put your baby down? Whether you call it AP or not, the mother of a high needs baby wears her baby not because a study claims it's better, she does it because he screams if she puts him down. She brings the baby to bed with her because, let's face it, if she didn't she would get any sleep. She breastfeeds on demand because he won't take a pacifier and it's the only trick you, the haggard mother, has left to get your baby to stop crying.

The above-described scenario is what Attachment Parenting looks like with the two infants I've cared for, and no one is going around telling me what happy, content doodle-bops I have. So, does that mean I'm practicing AP incorrectly? Does that mean that AP doesn't work? Would a fellow AP mother be convinced I was practicing AP incorrectly because of my less than placid peanut?

Maybe I'm just jealous at the romance and butterflies of a low-maintenance baby. Or, maybe I'm just a little irritated that we live in a day and age where common sense is turning into a scientific parenting method that generations before was called, "Take care of and love your baby."

I don't have any answers, and I'll admit that there are many times that as hard as I try, me, the primary (nearly sole) caretaker of my infants, has no idea what to do to make them happy. A book telling me to hold them more and nurse on demand certainly wouldn't help since that's what I'm already doing!. My conclusion is this: babies are a lot of work, some are A LOT of work, but day by day they become a little less of a baby. I'm convinced that a loving mom and dad will yield a happy CHILD, regardless of the temperament that first year.

So, I'm boycotting the term "Attachment Parenting." I think it sounds silly to say that you "Attachment Parent" anyway. I'm going to coin a new name, it's called, "Yeah I'm a mom."

Take that!

Check.

Everything is okay now. After two weeks waiting, my worst fears turned out to be nothing. It was tough experience, and I'm glad it's over. Hopefully now I'll be able to blog with the best of them. Thank you, family and friends, for all of your support and prayers.

Mal.

Mouthpiece

"Mommy, can you turn me into a dog?"

"Um, no Luke, I can't. Why would you want to be a dog anyway?"

"Because you can tell me to 'roll over, Luke,' and then I'll roll over!"

"You don't have to be a dog for me to tell you that, I can tell right now and you can roll over for me, 'roll over, Luke, roll over.' You can't be a dog, you're already a little boy."

"I don't want to be a little boy. It's too hard."

Riiiiiiggghhhhtt...
And at this point I'm not sure that either Luke or a dog would follow my commands, be it 'roll over' or not.

Quest For The Perfect Diaper Bag

I don't know if it's perfect, but after lugging a backpack around for four months I'd had enough, the backpack wasn't doing the trick. So, one afternoon my little sister came over to help with the kids while I did an all-out internet search for the most functional and economical bag I could find to tote around my mothering accoutrement.

My requirements were simple: A. I needed a shoulder strap that was long enough to go across my body-messenger bag length. B. It needed to be big enough for my personal effects, cloth diapers and wipes, extra underpants for Luke and space for sippy cups and a water bottle. C. It needed to look not lame.

I settled on this discontinued model Vera Bradley messenger bag. It met all my requirements and is a little funky without being overtly feminine (after all, I have two boys). It's funny though, because I picked this pattern based on the low price, and now a few weeks later it's now considered a 'collector' and costs more than a new edition pattern. Of course, mine won't be a collector, it's already worn with old fruit snacks and spit up.

The search is over...for now. Thank you for all your input!

Neglect

I'm certainly not being the post-ess with the most-ess after my big comeback last week. It's not that I'm drained of bloggable (is that a word) moments, quite to the contrary. Just a few minutes ago Luke had to go potty and pulled his pants down to his ankles before realizing that that the nearest toilet was down a flight of stairs. He went down the stairs with with his pants constricting his short little legs and looked quite like a penguin as maneuvered his way down. A good mother might have helped him, knowing how clumsy he already is and trying to avoid a third bout of stitches in his face, but no, I sat on the couch and laughed. He makes me laugh.

We've been as goofy and ridiculous as ever, it's just that I am really not at peace right now. It's hard enough to play with your kids, smile, laugh and try to live life normally, let alone blog about arbitrary happenings in our day.

I'm still waiting on news. We received good news this week, but it's not the end of it. I have to wait another long week for final news. Unfortunately, not even the good news gave me relief.

I didn't always use to be this anxious. Then again, I didn't always have two precious souls relying on me for nearly everything and a husband whom I adore. It changes everything. The past week has to have been one of the hardest trials I have ever endured. In my head is constant conflict between trusting God while being scared out of my mind.

Our own senses can be terrible burdens at times. As hard as I plead with myself not to worry or get upset, not to think the worst, my mind won't cooperate. Even though chances are on my side that I'm just fine, it doesn't matter, fear has gripped me and won't let go. Fear has to be the greatest pain I've ever experienced, and while I can't change the fact that I'm a nervous-nelly, worry-wart, I can at least be comforted knowing that everything good or bad, important or insignificant, all serves a purpose beyond me and greater than I can ever understand.

We'll wait, and pray, and hope. I'll worry, but I'll try even harder not to worry.

Until then...

Would You Rather...?

We learned this week, the hard way, that sleep is in fact better than pizza. It had been a month sans dairy, but Saturday rolled around and I hadn't done a load of laundry in four days, no cleaning, no diaper washing, no fresh fruit, nothing from the freezer thawed. The kids were stinky because they hadn't been bathed, and I was doing the little I could do to keep things functioning without trying to get overwhelmed with all the time I had to make up for.

So...Mark ordered pizza. The thought that I shouldn't be eating pizza didn't really register, such was my state of mind at the time. I was just happy that everyone was fed and that there weren't any dishes to add to the sink.

The next day...

Let's just say that if dairy were a bee sting and that Paul was allergic to bee stings, pizza sent him into anaphalectic shock. I have seen every hour of the clock for the past two nights, up at least once an hour trying to console a baby with terrible gas pains that nothing will relieve, not to mention an unbecoming facial rash which we've attributed to the dairy.

I feel terrible for putting Paul through the gut-wrenching experience yet again, and in general feel a little down that there are so many foods that I really need to avoid for both Paul's sake and my sanity.

But, as Mark so brilliantly put as I trudged down the stairs this morning after a fitful night, "Sleep is better than pizza."

Hands down.

A baby...

...only a mother could love.

And I certainly do!
(And I'm joking, too, of course. There's a special place in my heart for awkward-stages. I know I've had a few.)
;)

A Bend in the Road

I wasn't going to blog about this. I certainly don't blog about everything that happens in my life, particularly if it is serious or a personal problem, and often don't think it's appropriate.

I wasn't going to blog about this. It was too personal, I was too upset, I don't like dramatics, sympathy, or excessive worry to add to my own struggles with anxiety.

I wasn't going to blog about this. There's no sense getting ahead of myself. I've never been a fan of sensationalism.

But, here I am. I'm blogging now, a decision I made only a few minutes ago. The past 48 hours have turned my world upside-down. A simple doctor's appt. on Thursday led to surgery on Friday. I've been worrying and waiting ever since, not knowing what day I'll get a call with either good...or difficult news to hear. It's a situation every person fears, and when you add a twenty-five year old mother with a husband and two little boys, it's enough to keep you up all night with fear.

But what is fear, why are we so afraid of news? It seems that regardless of the outcome, once you have the answers you more or less accept them and resign yourself to whatever steps need to be taken next, even if you know a tough road lies ahead. I was afraid on Thursday. I was terrified. I'm humble enough to admit that I tend to be a bit high-stress, tightly-wound, anxious and controlling...at times. I was letting my worst qualities get the best of me. I was letting fear of the unknown torture me. Knowing my weakness, I did the only thing that I could do, pray, and ask others to pray.

Perhaps I've felt the power of prayer before, I credit many decisions and events in my life to prayer. However, I've never seen such a change in myself because of prayer. To say, at this point, that I am uncommonly calm and remarkably at peace is an understatement. A week ago, if I were to predict how I would react to the situation I am in now, I would have responded with a near hysterical bag of nerves, a worry-stricken, weak with burden, and doom and gloom shell of myself. It would have been a nightmare. And in fact, on Thursday, I labeled my day as nightmare.

On Thursday a string of events happened that changed my entire perspective. We made phone calls, our family made phone calls, our friends made phone calls. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, but Mallory needs prayer." The chain is strong, and the effects are felt deeply. I've never been so at peace.

Is there a God? I absolutely believe there is. Does He love me? He is taking care of His daughter, knowing that fear can be the greatest pain. Am I being prepared for a difficult road ahead? I don't know. I will know, eventually, but until then, I have to wait and trust and pray.

I will smile and laugh, build train tracks, change diapers, cook dinner, read books, make beds and wipe runny noses. I will pray, and pray, and pray.


Until then...

Boys...and girls.

I thought I was going to go through the whole day with nothing to blog about. My second day back at the reigns and I thought I'd ran dry. Just when I was ready to doubt that I had a creative outlet I sent Luke outside to fetch the mail.

He returned with a bill and package. He designated the package for me by the purple box and white flowers, and then excitedly ordered me to open my present.

What I opened turned out to be a sample pack of overnight Kotex pads. Oh my. Luke was still excited and confused. "What are those, mommy? Can we open them? Are they for me? Can I have those? Who got those for you?" Without getting over my head (or his) I explained that Target sent them (I love Target), that they were for mommies, and that no, he couldn't have them. What ensued was a twenty minute discussion of "why mom" that I thought wouldn't start until Luke was at least four. His curiosity getting the best of him, I compromised my end of the bargain, which was hiding the blushing mailbox samples deep in some closet that only women can get to, and I let him carry the box around for awhile, because hey, it's a present, right?

I suppose all of my gushing over my favorite products got me on a few mailing lists. Hey, I'm not complaining, I just know my boy, and I don't want him ending up like this. (To which, upon inspection, Luke proclaimed, "Oh no, he has bandaids all over him. Look at his ouies!")

Because They're Cute

Life As I Know It

...let there be DSL...

The gods of internet-land welcomed me back today as we began paying a monthly bill for our internet access. Until now I've been blogging on a legal, but unsecured wireless network that our neighbors so ignorantly did not secure until my blog coarsely stopped at the end of June. After whining for a while about having to pay for internet, we finally chalked it up, and low and behold, not only do I have a full signal, I'm legit.

I've so much oversharing to catch up on; medical marvels, 'he said what?!' posts, baby tricks, political tirades, and all the puke, poop, and pee accidents you can handle, Batman. Can you believe Luke is potty-trained without a single blog post about the time he pooped in the garage and tried to convince me that it wasn't poop, but chicken nuggets on the cement floor? Can you believe that my perfect-turned-pretty-fussy-baby-muffin Pablo Jose cannot tolerate even the slightest amout of dairy passed through his mother's milk which means...brace yourself...no ice cream or pizza?

I'll start slowly as not to give you the blah, blah, blahs, so here's a quick catch-up.

~Luke knows the name of the President, and when he hears Obama on the radio, he tells me "Mommy, that's President Obama talking."

~ The movie Robin Hood has become the go-to on rainy days this summer. I love it. It even got me reading some fiction about John Lackland and King Richard. Definitely one of my favorite periods, I have to keep a watch out though, because Luke is starting to sword fight.

~ Paully is the goofiest baby you'll ever see. You can't help but smile when you look at him. He's got puppy-dog eyes and big full cheeks. When he smiles his whole body squiggles and squirms with excitement.

~ Five miles today...in 42 minutes. I technically have ten pounds to go, but most of my clothes fit me. I'm still trying though, there's a number on the scale with my name on it.

~Coffee Mate is my best friend.

~Is it bad to teach your kids Beatles songs?

~I've been thinking a lot lately about homeschooling. Luke is three and we're doing little preschool worksheets at home strictly for fun. A day doesn't go by where I don't think at length about it. More blogs to go...

~Goodbye pink toes, summer will miss you. Welcome mary janes and striped socks, didn't I just pack you away?

~The Angelus has become a daily prayer at lunch time. I love it.

Time to iron while watching TMZ.

Anniversary

Four years, two kids, two states, four apartments, one doctorate, one mortgage, two cars, one cat.

Three boys, one girl. One family. Lots of ups, lots of downs. Lots of laughs, lots of ice cream.

Happy Anniversary, Mark.

Scents of the Season

Our internet access is still touchy. I'll do the best I can, but wanted to blog about the smells of summer...

I love the smell of grass that has just been cut.
I love the smell of clean cloth diapers after drying all day in the sunshine.
I love the smell of my musky baby, with long unkempt hair, certain to be breastmilk laden.
I love the smell of barbecue chicken on the grill.
I love the smell of my sweaty three year old, just like a puppy.
I love the smell of lavender water sprayed on bed sheets after they've been changed.
I love the smell of Sweet Basil growing in my garden.
I love the smell of dirt, caked on pudgy hands and feet after playing outdoors all day.
I love the smell of morning after a humid day brings a night-long rain.
I love the smell of my nourished, satisfied baby; his breathing so close to my face.
I love the smell of roasted garlic, which I use on everything.

I love summer.

Update...sort of.

We haven't had internet at our house for awhile. We're working on it, but that's why I haven't been blogging (or emailing or Facebooking). Fortunately the weather is gorgeous and we're busy. I'm sure everyone else is, too, and hardly noticed my absence.

I'll be back.

Peace.

Sarcasm

I am an athlete...


...just WAITING to happen!


(And I think this is the most hilarious thing I've ever posted. So laugh with me.)

Freud

As a college student I had to learn a lot of psychology of human development, which is a fancy term for psychologists and their varying categories of development. We'd memorize one after another, Pavlov, Piaget, Bolby...the list goes on and on, each with their own developmental theories. As students we'd come up with mnemonics to keep them all straight. With Freud, four years later, I can run the stages through my head like a song, "Oral, Anal, Latency, Genital." Freud was a piece of work.

Luke, who turns three tomorrow (!) is in the "Anal" stage. Our situation yesterday is perfect evidence of this. While doing "school" which to Luke is five minutes with the Magna Doodble, I was having him reading the letter sounds in the word "at," and then appropriately "sat, hat, mat." Knowing his threshold would soon be up, I quickly asked him to spell the words for me.

"Luke," I asked, "spell M-M-M-Mat."
Luke replied, "M-A-T."
"Great, spell H-H-Hat."
Luke replied, "H-A-T."
"Good job, Luke. Now spell S-S-Sat."
"No!" Luke answered forcefully.
"No? Why don't you want to spell 'sat' for me?"
"I want to spell something different," Luke answered.
"Well, we're working on the 'At family,' Luke, what else would you like to spell?"
"I'm all done with the 'At family,'" Luke answered, "I want to spell a different word."
"Okay, buddy. What do you want to spell," I responded, trying not to get flustered.
"Let's spell...let's spell," Luke began, starting to grin. "Let's spell...I want to spell....Poop."

Then I laughed...and spelled it for him. Oh boy.

Progress

Run! Run! Run!
I finally feel like I don't have a pregnant body, even though it's been three months since Paul was born. I feel strong and able to push myself physically. I ran 3.5 miles yesterday at 9:40/mile pace, which for me, after not running for nine months, is quite good. I'm excited now that my once aching and sore body is starting to feel like it's putting itself back together again.

A couple of my fellow Y girls commented how nice it must be to be able to run again, and to exercise in general without peeing my pants (!) and I couldn't agree more! Even Smokin' Hot Mom encouraged me during my last mile, and runs nearly twice as fast for twice as long.

Jon and Kate Make Me Irate

Let me start by saying that I don't watch Jon and Kate Plus 8. I watched a few episodes last year when it seemed like everyone was talking about it. After watching it I couldn't see the appeal and never watched it again. The last two weeks' episode have gathered a record number of viewers, and I'm proud to say that I'm not one of them.

I can't pinpoint exactly why Jon & Kate didn't appeal to me, but I have a good idea. Television in general has become increasingly dull to me, and I find that very little, if anything, will hold my attention before I start thinking that I could be doing a lot better things with my time. It comes down to this: I can't learn a thing from watching Jon & Kate, unless you count learning what I shouldn't do as a parent. Watching Kate scream at her kids and belittle her husband isn't going to make me a better person, and it doesn't teach me skills to be a more patient mother or disciplinarian. Observing a family doing more vacations and activities than any family I've ever seen, simply for a camera to record how insane corralling eight small children in crowded places doesn't teach me anything about family life or inspire me in any way. Do you ever see the Gosselin family just being a family...just 'being'? Apparently just being a family doesn't make good television in the same way trips to the Crayola factory and a marriage in turmoil do.

Oddly enough, I found out about the split last night while watching Anderson Cooper on CNN. So, Jon and Kate aren't just reality stars anymore, they're headline news, and 9 million viewers are standing by watching a family self-destruct. When I heard that Monday's episode would reveal a big announcement, I honestly thought that in the midst of a family crisis that they would turn the cameras off, stop the show, and make their family (children!) a priority, while dealing with their obvious marital problems.

However, I must be living in a dream world.

In my world, good parents make sacrifices for their children, even if it means giving up a comfortable lifestyle they've grown accustomed to. In my world, even though it isn't perfect and people have problems and disputes, they seem to still put others and their children ahead of themselves. In my world, I cannot think of a decent mother or father I know who would choose fame over their children.

In my world, I would give it all up if it meant that there might be a chance to keep my family intact.

Jon and Kate, I'm irate. Grow up. You have eight little children waiting for you to.

Gotcha

You realize you might have a problem when, at 7:30am, your big boy starts yelling through the house, "Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum! Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell...Diet Coke!"

Review: Dressing with Dignity

Phew. I had a hay-day with my latest reviewing item from The Catholic Company. A few weeks ago I had an intense discussion with a friend about morality, modesty and standards for Catholic dress. The book Dressing with Dignity came up to review, and not having read it, I was excited to select it as my next item from The Catholic Company.

Dressing with Dignity is a Catholic manifesto stressing the importance and theological basis for Catholic female dress. Although the back of the book quotes, "Given the circulation it deserves, Dressing with Dignity has the potential to rout the fashion world's penchant for giving women little choice of chic yet modest attire...," the target audience for this book is solely orthodox Catholic women. As much as I would love a wider audience to read about modesty and virtue, let's be honest, how many readers are you going to lose when the author explains that you will go to Hell for all eternity if you have a mortal sin from the repercussions from immodest dress?

The big bomb shell of Dressing with Dignity is this: As a female, dressing modestly doesn't mean keeping improper body parts covered and looking generally presentable at all times. On the contrary, the author claims that pants worn by females is immodest. The author spends the entire book defending why skirts and dresses are the only modest clothing in the eyes of the Church.

The book does have great quotes from past Popes, Saints, and philosophers such as Alice von Hildebrand and Padre Pio. The quotes are insightful and definitely are cause for reflection. Anyone today, Catholic or Protestant, Christian, Jew, Atheist, etc. would probably argue that many women dress disrespectfully for themselves and those around them. The author also stresses the importance of femininity; looking and behaving presentable so as to honor yourself and the family. I couldn't agree more and was further convicted that appearances, while not stressing them, do give impressions to others, and that it is important to present yourself in the way you want to perceived.

Where the book starts to get fuzzy for me are the arguments for women to wear skirts or dresses, and that all forms of pants are immodest, or even a skirt with any form of a slit. The author has some compelling testimony from Padre Pio and past Popes, but at the same time, the bottom line is there isn't, nor will there ever be specific standards for dress dictated from the Church.

Also, the author leaves out practical uses for wearing pants, capris or shorts. What about exercise, riding a bike, pulling weeds from the garden? What about moms who are always on the floor playing with children and changing diapers and find that skirts are often too binding or revealing? What about in places like Minnesota where it can get so stinking cold that leaving the house with a skirt would be crazy?

The author has an extensive appendix in the back of the book with resources to find modest dress. As someone who generally wears skirts more frequently than pants, I was very open to exploring the websites the author suggested. The list of websites leaves much to be desired. First, many of the websites are broken, and one address led me to a website with provocatively posed women--not what you want in a modesty book!

The biggest problem I have with this book is the fashion standard the author has, as evidenced by the websites presented in the appendix. The dresses are old-fashioned. I would label many as "Pioneer" or "Prairie" style, and am convinced that I would draw much more unwanted attention wearing such dated clothes than a simple pair of khakis pants.

I don't want to slam this book, because I believe the message is a good one, it's just extreme. I'm finding that the older I get the more comfortable I am in skirts anyway, so maybe someday I'll make the plunge. I think Dressing with Dignity definitely deserves reading and reflection, just with a grain of salt.

Everyday counts...

As my sweet Paul Joseph is only days away from his three month birthday, I wanted to share a video about another little boy and his three months of life. You may have seen this before, as I had, but it's a good reminder, especially for mothers, that every day is a gift.

Catch-Up

Another week of mediocre blogging on my part. Our computer broke down, and with three days of straight rain I made it my personal goal to get out of the house as much as possible to distract us from the rainy summertime racing past us.

Here's a quick report

Progress: I did 86 pushups last night. No kidding. Last night's pushups were the hardest stretch yet, but I'm determined to keep going. Also, I've continued to go to the YMCA and have advanced my workout to the treadmill where I successfully completed three separate three mile runs. At this very moment I'm contemplating whether we'll head to the Y this morning or not. It's so stinkin' humid I can't type without breaking a sweat, so just the thought of us getting rallied into the car might be all the workout I can handle today. We'll see...

Sweetness: Here's what Luke told me this morning, "Mommy, thank you so much for giving me Paul. Paul makes me so so happy."

Motivations: I'm drinking coffee. I love Diet Coke. I bought a bag of Double Stuf Oreos last night shopping. I haven't done that since I was pregnant, but my cart was filled with tomatoes, rice cakes, spinach, and flax bread, so I figured the indulgence wasn't so bad.

Stupid Mommy Award: Yesterday I put Luke to work painting with water colors at the kitchen table while I took a shower. Getting out of the bathroom I observed that Luke's door was shut and he didn't want me to come in (Insert suspenseful music here). Opening the door I saw that Luke wass painting a mural on wall with the said watercolors. Let's just say that he won't be doing that again...he got in pretty deep doo-doo.

Have a great weekend!

Exhaust!

Mallory is NOT blogging today, at least not right now. Naptime is my normal blogging free-handed while drinking diet coke and eating garbage time. Not today. I'm so stinkin' tired, and even after going to bed last night before 10pm I'm still dragging. I thought a morning workout would perk me up a little, but I've just had too many late nights and running around without a rest in between. So, as long as both boys are tucked snug in their beds, I'm taking a break...

Naps are never overrated.

Doings

Here's a recap on the quirks and crazies of our week.

*Luke is convinced that a T-Rex lives in our bedroom. He also thinks that the same T-Rex is going to get in his room through a window. He tells me that I can throw it across the drive and not to worry, that it won't eat my babies.

*Paul is laughing. I know he's only 10 weeks, but when he's happy he's the happiest baby I've ever seen. He loves to mimic, so when we're laughing as a family, not wanting to be left out he joins right in. His big gummy smile and his cooing just make us want to give him more of the only thing he needs: love, love, love.

*I have reached my swing-pushing quota this week. Luke is in the awkward stage where he absolutely cannot figure out the 'pumping' mechanism. Therefore, I am his personal thrill provider and am beat with holding onto to the baby with one hand and pushing a big boy with the other.

*I have officially killed off the two hanging flower baskets on our porch. I made it three weeks maybe? My other flowers are doing okay, and the iris are about to bloom, so I'm not a total failure, but I'm still bummed about the baskets. Maybe next year :( .

*Mark has golfed twice this summer and is psyched that his scores have been decent/good after going so long without playing. Can I brag?? Did you Mark know has had two hole-in-ones?!!!

*I have to admit that I am in dire need of a night out. It has been so long that I cannot remember how long...months, maybe five? There's a Blue Moon waiting for me...any takers?

Have a good weekend!

Progress

Today I'm posting about my love affair with the YMCA. For the past ten weeks I have been counting down the days until PJ was technically (or a couple weeks shy of technically...)old enough for me to leave him for a forty-five minutes at Kids Kastle while I get in a quick workout. Today was my third day back, and honestly, this week has been a breath air because of it.

In my case, exercise isn't about weight loss or fitness. I enjoy being active and feeling fit, but exercise, for me, is an emotional and physically outlet. Yes, I get a "break" from the house and children, but it's more than that. I'm honestly a happier, more positive and energetic person when I can get a good workout in.

I'm a better mother when I get in daily exercise. I'm more laid back, more patient and much more energy to play and do activities with the kids.

I haven't done my pushups yet, so you'll have to wait until next week for my total. However, I'm happy to report that I have 17 pounds left of baby weight...that's a total weight loss of 28 pounds since the baby was born. Slow but sure wins the race, right?

A Review: Paul in a Basket

I recently reviewed a product for The Catholic Company. The children's CD, Paul in a Basket, is the story of St. Paul set to music in a sing-along style. With Wee-Sing getting quite old, and Wheels on the Bus becoming intolerable, I was excited to see what else was out there for children's music.

Both narrative and musical, Paul in a Basket tells in Biblical detail the events leading to St. Paul's conversion, his own persecution, imprisonment, martyrdom, and scriptural references to his most famous passages. The CD can be played the whole way though with songs and narratives, but also has the option for music-only tracks, which is nice for navigating specific songs while driving.

Each song is distinctive, varying in tempo and style, which at first is confusing and muddled to the listener, but the variety is appreciated later after daily requests to listen to "Paul in a Basket."

Many of the songs have small puns, such as when singing about "The fruits of the spirit," the lyrics engage the listener by singing, "These are the fruits of the spirit...orange you glad." And, while portions start to sound a little like School House Rock, cramming as many words into a quarter note that will fit, it is nonetheless an effective way to teach children (and listening parents!) significant scripture passages. What a treat to hear a two year old sing "If any man be in Christ he is a new creation, he's a new creation, he's a new creation. If any man be in Christ he is a new creation. The old has passed before the new has come. Second Corinthians five seventeen." Like I said, it's a mouthful, but beats "There was an old lady who swallowed a fly."

Included in the Paul in a Basket CD are instructions to put on an actual Paul in a Basket production. Written in extreme detail, it was unpractical for children my ages. However, if I would go through the effort of putting on an entire musical, I would definitely want a book of piano accompaniment or voiceless tracks on a CD, which is currently not included in this product.

Overall, this is a great product and if there were another made I would highly consider purchasing it for the educational value alone(The story of St. Francis would be great for kids!). I learned quite a bit about St. Paul just by listening to these easy-to-listen songs and narratives.

Ho-hum

Do you ever have one of those days when you all you feel good for is to be a milk machine, time-out maker, apple juice pourer, missing shoe finder, and Dr. Seuss reader?

They're dangerous.

Those are the days when you want to shout to the world, "Hey, I'm better than this! I have a mind and an education! My ideas are worth listening to! Why, just because I change diapers all day can't I make a positive contribution to this world?"

We already know what we're capable of, but it can be hard when no one acknowledges your non-mothering talents and you feel you have to prove them to the world before you're only identified as the lady with a kid on each hip.

Motherhood is a sacrifice. There is the obvious sleep-deprivation and time consumption, but you also sacrifice part of your identity that you have to fight to hold on to. Whether butcher, baker or candlestick-maker, dancer, writer or team supervisor, while totally devoted to our families, our talents extend beyond dressing a surly kid and calming a fussy baby.

It's a tough balance, and I have to admit, I struggle with trying to prove that I'm more than meets the eye. If nothing else, when I look at someone in a similar stage of life as myself, I can at least make sure to remember that they are more than just a good mom or dad, and make a point to recognize the many-facets and talents each person possesses.

Quest for the Perfect Diaper Bag

I'm so stinking frustrated with my diaper bag and now the search is on for a perfect diaper bag. The problem is that mine A) It isn't big enough B) There's only one large compartment and I'm a control freak and hate just throwing my stuff into a big mess without any organization, and C) It's ugly.

I bought a designer diaper bag when I was pregnant with Luke and then hardly used it. I tried hard to not get it dirty so I could remedy the buyers-remorse and sell it on Ebay. I used a plethora of bags with Luke and then just started to jam stuff into my over-stuffed purse.

The days of the purse are no more with bigger brood. And since dragging luggage through the grocery store looks awkward, I have to find a bag that works for our needs. Here's the problem, because I always have a child in tow, I need a bag with a long enough strap so it crosses over my shoulders, and most diaper bags are just shoulder bags so the strap and bag are on one side of the body. I have exhausted my resources looking at bag under the sun, and have even considered getting a backpack so both hips are free for two perched children to chill.

I'm actually very close to going the backpack route, my only holdup is that when I'm wearing wedged flip flops, a jean skirt and lip gloss, a Patagonia just doesn't fit the bill. Yes, I realize I'm being ridiculous, but if the look doesn't jive, let's be honest, I won't use it. One intriguing thought I had last night at Best Buy was getting a laptop bag. Some are messenger style, so it crosses over the body, and then it has compartments for organization.

I'm an 'everything but the kitchen sink' kind of a girl and carry my wallet, phone, lip gloss and an extra shirt for myself in the diaper bag (the shirt is for the spit-up, it's necessary now, but might not be in a few months). Then, I carry at least one diaper for Luke :/ , and three for Paul. Since cloth diapers use significantly more space than disposables, three cloth diapers can fill a bag fast. I also have an extra outfit for the baby, hand sanitizer, fruit snacks, nuk, hair binder, cheerios, rosary and a small prayer book.

I need a good bag. Have you found one that works?

Blah Blah Blah

Nothing of note to blog about today, or this week really. It's gorgeous outside and we're making up for nine months indoors by spending every sunny hour outdoors. For me that means dirty kids, dirty laundry and a dirty house. For Luke it means a whole new world of playing in the sand and slides that he's no longer afraid to slide down. For Paul is means taking naps in the car seat and nursing on park benches.

I really love summer, sunglasses, hot pink tote bags, popsicles and pretty gardens.

Now, someone kick me in August when I start blogging about how I miss wearing wool turtleneck sweaters and making chicken wild rice soup.

Omen

It's not yet 8:30am and I've been completely drenched by spit-up TWICE.
So, we're going to have that kind of day, are we?
I'm backing away from the computer before I ruin something more than my shirt.
Peace out.

Progress

Yesterday I didn't have internet (torture, right?), and thus no progress report. I had this great picture to post, but Mark ended up taking the camera to work with him, so here I am, with minimal technology, trying to blog about baby weight.

We're starting a new workout program soon that I'm excited to blog about, but don't want to until we give it a whirl. In the meantime, I'll share that I have 18 pounds to go, and did 47 pushups yesterday..WOOT WOOT.

A Case of the Mondays

"Luke sweetie, what are you doing?" I called to Luke this morning as we were getting ready to go to the library.

"Don't call me sweetie," Luke replied, "I'm not a sweetie, I'm a boy. My name is Lukey."

"Of course you're a boy, and your name is Luke, but your also my little sweetheart."

"No," Luke responded coolly, "I'm not a sweetheart anymore."

As fate would have it, at lunch began the biggest battle we've yet to fight, all starting with The Apple Heard Round the World,i.e. a lunchtime protest with the contents of Luke's plate thrown across the room. What ensued was a battle of the wills with one strategy on my part: win.

My Sweetheart turned Boy is now napping. Completely unable to get himself under control, he ended up falling asleep by screaming in his bedroom...without any lunch. My only hope now is that he doesn't wake up early from hunger and we start the over-tired tirade all over again.

Of course, my life would have been easier, at least for a time, if I allowed him to throw apple slices across the room, eat Cheetos for lunch and scream at his parents, but we just cannot allow that. Sometimes I'm tempted to take the easier road to avoid the immediate consequences, but then I have to remember that these battles are what prove our love to our children. Their defiance is a question to us, "Do you love me enough to care about the person I become? Are you tough enough to make me respect authority?" An hour of toddler screaming and a frazzled mother may be the immediate consequences of discipline, but I love him too much to find out the consequences of no discipline.

Hold on tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride.