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.