Notes from a Busy Household

I must have started half a dozen posts in the last month and a half. Not a one of them made it far enough along to bother with the bright orange "Publish" button that mocks me from the top of the page.

Life moves so fast sometimes. Do you suppose I've seen that Matthew Broderick Super Bowl commercial too many times? It's one of the few I really liked. As I watched most of them, I felt like I must be outside the targeted demographic because of my age. Or my gender. Or maybe my species.

It seems like I've hardly had a moment to myself since before Christmas, with the exception of a few that were very carefully carved out under heavy guard. Extra special thanks go to Adam for helping carve and guard! I'm sure I'd have gone completely round the bend without them, rather than just most of the way, holding on for dear life.

So what have I been busy doing, you ask? Well, I put 17 items on my Big To-Do list last month. As of this morning, 11 of them are done.

For the last several weeks, I've been:

• Finishing mittens for Ian, just in time for the weather to get all warmish again. On the plus side, they're adorable, even if all they're doing right now is dangling from the sleeves of his coat. I did make notes while I was working on it, so I'm going to try making a pair for Rosi as well and actually writing up the pattern before the end of winter. (Mental note: update list)
• Writing out three grocery lists and bought enough food to keep us all fed.
• Doing our taxes and submitted them online. Hooray for Free File at irs.gov!
• Developing a lesson plan on the history of Jane Goodall's Roots & Shoots program
• Writing a scientifically accurate story of how a snowflake grows and practiced making snow paint out of various ingredients. (For the record, I thought the shaving cream version had the best effect given the cost and effort involved in making the paint.)
• Updating my resume. Again. I think I've finally got it the way I want it now.
• Revising my professional profile. If you're not familiar with the term, that's a one-page overview of my career history, skills and qualifications, and what I'm looking for in a new job situation. It's sort of like a mini-resume, but is specifically designed for networking purposes.
• Becoming a member of a new church. Well, the church isn't that new, but we've only been going there for about 6 months. It's nice to have a church home again, but it's really not helping at all with the being-less-busy thing. It's a good busy, I know, but sometimes I just want a day off or three. (Another mental note: Don't forget to send that e-mail about the VBS planning meeting next week)
• Figuring out where to donate a batch of recycled heart crayons so that the next project we're doing with the Roots & Shoots group will actually be useful to some kids other than ours. We're donating them to the local Ronald McDonald House.

Add to that all the normal everyday stuff like cooking and cleaning and making sure the kids bathe regularly, learn some new stuff, and don't kill one another. Or their father. Or me.

And, hey, what's going on with my blog design? I didn't authorize a blue stripe down the middle of my sidebar! Now I'm going to have to mess with that again (attempting to make yet another mental note).

***ERROR: THERE IS INSUFFICIENT SYSTEM MEMORY AVAILABLE IN RESOURCE POOL 'MIND' TO COMPLETE ACTION.***

Oh, dear.

Two Things I Learned on the Water Slide

How the heck did it get to be December already? My parents weren't kidding about time moving faster as you get older!

A couple of weeks ago, Adam and I celebrated our birthdays. My in-laws' gift to us was a couple of nights at a local hotel with an indoor water park. Alone time and uninterrupted sleep being rare and precious commodities in our house, we decided to spend our days together with the kids splashing around in the pools and water slides, then each of us took one evening and overnight to stay in the room alone.

I didn't end up spending my evening alone. In fact, I picked up my 19-year-old niece to go for coffee and we spent the next several hours talking about everything from college to boys to Christianity to the Occupy Wall Street movement. Finally, as midnight was approaching, I decided I'd better take her home, lest she turn into a pumpkin.

After a lovely full night's sleep without anyone bumping into me in bed, I took a few final rides on the 160-foot water slide before checking out. God used that opportunity to teach me some important lessons.

1. It's okay to have fun by myself, in fact, it's necessary
Rosi and I had had a blast riding the water slide together our first day at the hotel. Unfortunately, they had to close the slide for maintenance the afternoon of the second day, so she wasn't able to ride on it again. We splashed around in the other pools (there were three total, plus two hot tubs) and slid down the kiddie slides with Adam and Ian.

After discovering the big slide was open again the next morning, I thought about picking up the kids for a quick visit. But, I figured by the time I drove home, we got them ready to go, drove back to the hotel, and actually were ready to use the pool, it would be nearly time to check out. So I went down the slide a couple of times on my own, thinking about how much fun Rosi would have had if she were there, and feeling a bit guilty that she wasn't able to experience it with me.

As I climbed up out of the pool after my second or third ride, the thought occurred to me that I didn't need to feel guilty because I wasn't doing anything wrong. Not only was it good for me to be having fun on my own, but it was important. Nobody can be having fun all the time. In this broken world, at any given moment someone (probably lots and lots of someones) are hurting or hungry or afraid. If we limit our own enjoyment of life to only that which can simultaneously be enjoyed by everyone else, we're not going to enjoy anything.

I don't mean to suggest that we shouldn't do what all we can to help those who are hungry or hurting, but not enjoying the pleasure that is in my life, because everyone else can't share it with me, simply leaves me miserable without offering any benefit to anyone.


2. Trusting the one who designed the course makes the ride a whole lot more fun.
Prior to this hotel stay, the last time I'd gone down a water slide was not a good experience for me. That slide was completely enclosed so I couldn't really see what was coming next. I ended up off balance, landing in the water on my belly and hitting my elbow on the end of the slide.

With those memories at the forefront of my mind, I was feeling pretty cautious the first few times I rode down this new slide. I kept my hands pressed against the sides to slow myself down and help stay upright. As I continued to slide, I started feeling more comfortable with the ride, but I still worried that if I didn't hold on, I'd start going too fast or tip over to one side or suffer some nasty accident--160 feet down looks awfully high from the top!

After about a dozen rides, it occurred to me that any water slide designer worth his salt would naturally design a slide that's really difficult to fall from. Furthermore, any park that installs a slide would have a vested interest in the safety of the riders, if for no other reason than because injuries are bad for business.

Finally, I gathered up the courage to let go, just sliding down with the water and not worrying (too much) about losing control or falling off. My last couple of rides were definitely the best ones of the whole visit. I wasn't tense or worried. Splashing from one side to the other as I rode around the curves was fun rather than scary. Believing that the creator of the ride knew what he was doing and trusting that he had it all worked out to keep me where I was supposed to be allowed me to appreciate the topsy-turvy feeling, smile at the rush of wind in my face, and anticipate the splash at the end.

Love and Bullshit

If you are related to me or you've read some of my previous posts on the issue, you already know I grew up in a family that didn't have a very good understanding of what love truly means. While I was taught that God is Love and my parents loved me no matter what, I didn't really get it. Love, for me, was a matter of usefulness. If I could do something for you, you would love me. Now, that might be anything from balancing your checkbook to making you feel special, but in the end, it all boiled down to my own efforts.

Sometime about college, I started to gather more information on the whole idea of God's grace. I mostly got it, I thought. God loves us because He made us. Even though I didn't do anything special for Him, He still thought I was pretty nifty because He'd created me. That seemed to make sense. Being the crafty sort myself, I could see liking something I made, just because. Yet, I couldn't help but think He'd love me more or better if I did more for Him.

Life went on, and I met Adam. I may not have shared this before, but he is the only boyfriend I've had. I never personally dealt with the whole concept of romantic love before, except in wholly one-sided, imaginary relationships. He told me he loved me just for me; I thought that was pretty cool. Still, especially after we got married, I could see that there was some benefit for him in having me around. And vice versa, of course.

It started to bother me, the fact that I couldn't quite identify what exactly love is. Not that it kept me up nights worrying, but periodically, in passing, I'd remember that I couldn't pinpoint real, true love, and I'd feel bad about that.

Earlier this year, Adam and I had to work through some really serious issues in our marriage. We needed to have a conversation that I hope never to have again, deciding whether or not we were willing to move forward in our relationship or if we would just walk away. Obviously, at the end of that discussion, we chose the former. It was a good choice.

I was thinking about our talk last night and sharing with Adam how glad I was we'd come to the conclusion that we are worth fighting for. Even as hard as some parts of the last few years have been, I told him, I would rather be working through the mess here with him than be somewhere else on my own, having avoided it altogether.

I've known for several years that I'm what's called a "verbal processor," which is just a fancy way of saying that I think about things best by talking them through. Frequently, I'm not particularly aware of my thoughts on a subject until ideas fall fully-formed out of my mouth.

Yesterday, for the first time, I realized I finally have a grasp on the whole love thing. It's not about how useful it might be to have you around. It's not whether or not I had anything to do with your being. And, contrary to what Erich Segal proposed, love certainly hasn't meant never having to saying I'm sorry.

Nope, stripped of flowery sentiment, I have discovered that love simply means I'd rather be mucking out the stable with you than riding in the rodeo without you.

Why I Love My Husband

I'm not feeling so hot today. I woke up with a migraine and construction workers outside my window hammering something into the new sidewalk they've spent the last two days building. Why they felt the need to start work at the crack of dawn (or 8:30 AM), I don't know.

Today was payday, which means sometime overnight bigger numbers suddenly appeared after the dollar sign in our online checking account balance. So Rosi and I went grocery shopping. Of the 22 advertised sale items on our list, 4 were not available. I won't make you do the math, that's more than 18%. Nothing like spending 5 hours creating a nutritionally balanced weekly menu full of fresh ingredients and visiting multiple stores to find the best prices, only to find oneself unable to buy nearly one-fifth of it. That's more than a day's worth of meals!

Those were the lower points of this morning, though. Today was actually a pretty decent day, overall. While we were out shopping, Adam and Ian cleaned the whole house and did all the laundry. I made lunch when I got home, but before I had a chance to do the dishes, Adam rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher for me.

Later this afternoon, even though he's not yet had any of the alone time he's been craving this week, he gave me a couple of hours to take a nap. He even changed the poopy diaper I would have otherwise been stuck cleaning up right before naptime.

And while I appreciated everything he did today, the actions are really just a reflection of the fantastic man Adam is. He's caring and thoughtful and loving and goofy and gentle and strong and devoted and considerate and faithful and patient and accepting and sincere and fascinating and about a thousand other wonderful adjectives I could choose.

Thank you, my love, for today and for everything you did for me. Thank you even more just for being you and being willing to love me for me.

Ten Hundred Million Years

Rosi has a typically childish notion of time. That is to say, she really has no concept of how long an hour, a day, or a year is. When something hasn't happened soon enough to please her (generally the instant she suggests it), she'll complain that it's been hours or days or even "ten hundred million years" since she first asked and she can't possibly wait any longer.

After she made such a comment the other day in the car, I explained to Adam my theory as to why time moves so much faster for Rosi than for the rest of us: in her universe, everything revolves around her. Since she's so much smaller than the sun, it all goes by that much quicker.

Meanwhile, it's been positively forever since my last post. We've been doing our best to keep ourselves occupied here, so let me give you a bulleted list of what we're up to these days.

• I've been spending a lot of time cooking, thinking about cooking, reading about cooking, writing about cooking (I have 60+ recipes posted over at Low-Carb Real Food), and trying to take half-decent pictures of my food. And when I'm done with all that, I spend a few minutes eating and then the kitchen has to be cleaned up all over again. Cooking three meals a day at home makes for a lot of dishes!
• Ever since I made the doll for my contest winner a couple of years ago, I've been wanting to make another and work out my own pattern. I even went so far as to buy yarn for the project a few months back. Then I got caught up doing other things, and I've only gotten back to it the last week or so. As best I can figure, I'm about halfway done. I've also run out of stuffing, so I need to make a run to the store before I can finish any further. Originally, this doll was meant to be for Rosi, but she'd been begging for another doll who would close its eyes when lying down. We found one for 25¢ at a garage sale over the summer and it's been well loved by both the kids. Since Rosi has a new-to-her doll, I decided that once I finish this one, it will be for Ian. I'm shooting to make it a birthday gift, which means I have about 2½ months to complete the doll and make it some clothes.
• I've been homeschooling Rosi to a greater or lesser degree for about two years now. We've tried a few different educational philosophies, but the one we keep returning to is unschooling, or interest-led learning. I really felt like I was trying too hard last year, pushing her when she didn't need any pushing. This year, I decided we really needed some support and community in the homeschooling arena. A couple of weeks ago, we joined a local homeschool group. we've gotten together with them for a couple of activities already and it's been a lot of fun. I'm really excited about what's coming up in the next several months. Rosi is too. It's been difficult for her to maintain friendships when she doesn't see kids at school everyday. A few of our neighbors have kids, but most of them are younger. The one friend her own age that she'd made in our building moved out several months ago. We also haven't had a regular church we've been attending, so that hasn't been a viable avenue for ongoing friendships either.
• And speaking of churches, we actually visited one this morning that we'd all like to go to again. The people were welcoming, the message was solid and timely, the music was good, and I was really happy with the way they handled communion. I've been less than impressed with the way children are so often overlooked when it comes to communion. I understand that families and denominations have differing beliefs about who can take communion. But, in practice, I am very uncomfortable with the way my kids have been treated when we've visited some churches and have brought them up for communion. It is very rare to find a communion "policy" noted in the bulletin or announced during the service. At the church we worshiped in this week, however, the pastor invited the congregation to participate and noted that each family should determine whether their children should receive the bread and wine. One of the things I loved most about our church in Illinois was the recognition that we all don't agree on a lot of theological points--and that's okay. The Church is big enough for people to hold different ideas about baptism or communion or speaking in tongues. Those issues are not actually central to the Gospel and they shouldn't be treated as if they were. I'm excited to find someplace that makes a point of that right in the service.
• Ian is having his own version of interest-led learning. You might call it "toilet unschooling." For the past month or so, he's been pretty frequently asking to use the toilet. He's also gotten really remarkable in the way he can undress himself and take a diaper off, even when he's snapped into a bodysuit. So, I've mostly given up on trying to keep him dressed. I insist that he wear a diaper when we're out or while he's sleeping, but most of the time he spends the majority of his day running around the house without any clothes on. He uses the toilet more than not, and for those times when he doesn't quite make it, I keep a spray bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels handy. As an added bonus, I figure he's probably saved us about $15 in diapers so far.

Well, that's not everything we've been up to, but that's probably enough for one post. I will try to start updating with a little more frequency again. Maybe I can manage to post more like once a week rather than once a month. For now, I'm going to go catch up on some sleep!

Grateful

In the vein of thanking God for small favors, let me recount a tale for you.

Two weeks ago, Target had a sale on diapers, so I added yet another stop to my list of errands to run that day. Thankfully, our local Target is on my way to a couple of other stores I needed to visit.

I parked the car, walked inside, headed back for the baby department, and was confronted with a big empty shelf where the boxes of size 4s should have been. Thankfully, at the bottom of the shelf was a pad of raincheck requests which made it easy to print a raincheck right at check out.

Several days later, after the sale had ended, the kids wanted to go out for a drive. I suggested we take a trip to the store if they behaved well. They did, so we headed out to Target. I grabbed a cart and set a course for the baby section, stopping every few feet to redirect Rosi as she got distracted by the bright shiny things on display. Once we'd reached the diaper aisle, I was disappointed to find the gaping hole still there between the 3s and the 5s. Thankfully, both children were amused by a quick breeze through the back-to-school section (although Rosi could not understand why I wouldn't buy her a package of Tinkerbell book covers).

Another few days passed and we'd opened our last bag of diapers. I called Target and a very helpful employee told me they had the diapers I was looking for: 9 boxes on the shelf and 30 in the warehouse. Just to be sure, I questioned whether these were all size 4. She confirmed they were. I drove to Target again. I got a cart and headed for the baby section for a third time. Thankfully, a mass of women with toddlers hadn't cleaned out the diaper aisle in the 20 minutes since I'd called.

This morning, Ian woke up a bit grumpy. He didn't want to eat, he didn't really want to play, he was just sitting in Adam's lap complaining about life. And then he threw up all over himself, Adam, and the floor. Thankfully, he missed the computer which sat a few feet away.

After a bath and a clean set of clothes, Adam changed a yucky diaper and took him to bed for a nap. Some time later, they came out of the bedroom together. Ian in need of another diaper change and another bath. Thankfully, we'd just done laundry, so we had an abundant supply of clean clothes.

Thankfully, we finally have an abundant supply of diapers from Target.

Fun with Science

Rosi and I completed the most funnest* science experiment since the one I did in high school biology that involved spitting into test tubes (I think it had something to do with pH testing, but I don't recall exactly).

We made Blue Goo. Seriously, this stuff is better than play dough. You can't sculpt anything out of it, but that's okay. It's fun just watching it melt and drip and change between liquid and solid form.

Do you want to get all gooey about science, too? It's easy, just mix one part cornstarch with 3 parts water. You can add a couple of drops of food coloring if you want. Mush it all together with your hands and let the fun begin.

Have older kids that are just too cool for goo? They can still play. My teenage niece turned me on to this one: Cornstarch Monsters. Add a stereo speaker to the mix and you can make the cornstarch colloid dance.

*Yes, I know it's ungrammatical. What's your point?

Darndest-isms

Amusements from our house over the past couple of days.

Rosi: Can we go for a drive?
Mamie: Tell you what, if you clean up all of your toys in the living room, we can go out for a little drive and pick up some food for dinner.
Rosi: Okay.

Later, after Mamie has reached the limit of her frustration tolerance, but the room has not yet been cleaned.
Mamie: Go get your shoes on; we’re going out.
Rosi: To get food?
Mamie: Yes.
Rosi: But I didn’t clean up.
Mamie: I know.
Rosi: Are you giving me grief?
Mamie: Do you mean giving you grace?
Rosi: No, a lot of times you say, “You’re giving me grief.”

The next day, after Adam has take over supervising the clean up.
Adam: You have 5 seconds to get this in the trash before drastic measures are taken.
Rosi: Before what is taken?
Adam: Before drastic measures are taken.
Rosi: Before my plastic what is taken?

• • • •

Ian has started really showing us his displeasure. He doesn't usually cry or scream, unless he's particularly overtired or hungry, but what he does just makes me smile. This morning, for instance, he was reaching for my phone on the desk. He made the sign for phone, his way of asking me to hand it to him. I said, "No," and moved it out of his reach. He glared at me and stomped his little foot on the floor before walking away to find another toy.

A Baby Story

No, not the TLC series. I'm talking about the long and involved story of Ian's birth. If you missed the saga the first time around (or if you just enjoyed the drama so much you need to read it again), please direct your attention to today's post on the Elegant Mommy blog The Empowering C-Section Birth of Ian Gray: A Homebirth Transfer.

That's My Girl

Rosi got a book and CD set of Disney's Beauty and the Beast at the library today. She insisted on starting it on the drive home and has heard it at least twice since we've arrived. She was still listening when I went in to put Ian down for his nap.

After I'd come out of the bedroom, she asked, "Did you know that Beauty came to my house?"

"Did she?" I replied.

She nodded, adding, "And we played football!"

The Bitter and the Sweet

Today marks two anniversaries in my life. One makes me smile, the other has been the cause of many, many tears.

Nineteen years ago today my mother died. She'd been battling cancer, but just a few weeks earlier she'd been given a clean bill of health. Then, suddenly, she was gone.

Fast forward 11 years. I was having a tough day. Memories of my mom were hitting hard and I spent most of my day feeling a bit weepy. I'd been dating Adam for only a few weeks, but he'd remembered this day was important to me.

When he came to pick me up from the VBS program where I was volunteering, he handed me a card. I don't recall exactly what he wrote, something about knowing how much it hurts to lose someone you love.

Then he told me he loved me for the first time. I was so surprised that I completely forgot to say it back to him.

While the sorrow of losing my mom will never completely go away, it's been really nice to have a happy anniversary to celebrate on this day, too.

Thank you, Adam, for bringing a smile to my face, even on some of the hardest days. I don't tell you nearly enough how much I love you.

And So It Begins ... Again

I was in the middle of making dinner when Rosi bounced into the kitchen to tell me, "Mo-om, Ian is taking his diaper off!"

Caught up in stirring constantly, I chose to ignore her latest communique. You'd think I would know better by now.

Thirty seconds passed and she came back, "Mo-om, Ian peed on the floor!"

Oh, joy.

I thought boys were supposed to be ready for toilet training later than girls. I figured I'd have a good three years before I needed to worry about this sort of thing.

Anybody know how to sign, "You're early; come back to me in 19 months"? You'd think they'd include these important phrases in those baby signing DVDs.

Things You Never Expect to Hear

At Ian's baptism last Easter, he was given a crucifix. Rather than simply having the cross hanging on a wall, Adam and I feel it's important to allow him to touch it and interact with it on his own level. In practical terms, that means he plays with it. As with any item that is not designed for toddler use, we do supervise his play, but we don't require that he use it only for specifically religious activities.

This morning, Adam was on the living room floor playing with the kids. I was nearby, but otherwise occupied, when I suddenly overheard him give Ian an instruction in his Daddy-who-must-be-obeyed voice.

You do not hit Rosi with Jesus.

And thus we begin Holy Week. A blessed Palm Sunday to all.

The Hard Stuff

Marriage is hard. I knew that going in. We even wrote about it on the back of our wedding program. Yet, right from the start I was surprised by just how challenging I found our marriage.

While we were engaged, Adam and I took this relationship inventory (it was not, we were told, a compatibility test). Our results came back very high. The only number I actually remember anymore is a 100% we got for communication, but all the scores were high. In the hubris of young love, I rather expected we were starting off ahead of the game and I supposed marriage wouldn't be as hard for us as it was for most couples. It's been quite humbling to find I'm not so gifted at this relationship thing after all.

In the years since our engagement, I've discovered that what I had thought made marriage hard, the sacrifices, the compromises, the refocus on us rather than me, has been a breeze compared to the real hard stuff: complete and utter honesty with myself and my husband. Marriage requires me not only to recognize that I am not perfect in some vague theoretical sense, but to take responsibility for my imperfect actions and reactions that hurt the man I love and do damage to our relationship.

I have to set aside my Suzy-on-top-of-it mask, step out from behind the screen of "I've got everything together; I don't need any help" and trust Adam to show me mercy, compassion, and grace when I have failed utterly. It requires me to be transparent, vulnerable. I don't like vulnerable. I like to be able to trust myself and not have to count on anybody else. Adam says I'm a control freak. Or, when he's feeling more generous, he calls me high maintenance.

Sally Albright: Well, I just want it the way I want it.
Harry Burns: I know; high maintenance.
    from When Harry Met Sally

It's just so much easier not to have to rely on somebody else, especially when I know he is going to let me down. Maybe not today or even this week, but, because he's imperfect himself, Adam lets me down sometimes. He says and does things that hurt me. I don't like that. And, if I am being honest, I say and do things that hurt him. I don't like that either.

Still, if I don't let Adam get close enough to hurt me, he's not close enough to love me either. Just why these two must go hand in hand is part of my ongoing argument with God about the necessity of free will. However, until I can convince Him otherwise (I'm not holding my breath waiting for that day), this is the way of the world. I don't like it, but if I refuse to accept it, if I hold back or try to hide the real me in an attempt to keep from experiencing pain, I miss out on real love.

That is very, very hard.

PBPBPBFFT!

That's the sound of all the air escaping from my blog when real life got busy this month. I do actually have a lot to share, but let's start with a catchall post full of bullets, shall we?

• Adam and I hadn't been spending the time we should have on the care and feeding of our marriage. This all became more than obvious in the middle of the night one night when we had a huge fight and I stalked off angrily as though he were the only one to blame. Thankfully, we'd already made plans the following few days to help some friends move out of their rental house several hours away. We spent nearly the entire drive talking about what was wrong, how we were both feeling about it, and what we could do to make things better. Each of us admitted to letting things slide when we should have taken more initiative to show one another that we cared and we both committed to moving forward with a new spirit of lifting each other up, both emotionally and spiritually.
  
  The past four weeks have really been like a second honeymoon for our relationship. I feel like I've found the man I married again and the grumpy fellow who'd been living here in his place has moved out. I also have been feeling more energized and encouraged to be the kind of woman and the kind of wife I'd like to be, supporting Adam and loving him a little more like the way he deserves to be loved. I won't suggest we've now got it all figured out and I don't expect problems to ever darken our marital doorstep again, but I do feel as though we've taken a turn out of the valley of the shadow of relationship death and back on the path toward the fullness of joy that God intended marriage to be.
  
  
• I had bronchitis once before, when I was in college. I vaguely remember coughing a lot, spending more time sleeping than I would have normally, and generally not feeling up to par. This time, I took two days off from the world and stayed mostly in bed. I didn't really have a choice in the matter, my body simply refused to stay awake and keep going for me. When I wasn't hacking up a lung, drinking gallons of water, or letting the gallons of water out the other end, I was lost in a dreamless sleep, only peripherally aware of my family and responsibilities I might normally have. Adam and the kids valiantly went on without me (shows me how indispensable I am). They each got a bit of a cough, but I was the only one knocked down flat by it.
  
  
• About the same time, we got a notice from our landlord that our apartment was to be inspected. The notice sent a shudder of fear down our collective spines. Amidst letting the maintenance on our marriage go, Adam and I had also let the housekeeping go as well. We do know how to keep our home clean, we are discovering, we just hadn't been doing what it took to get it done. Our place had begun to resemble the houses you see on those TV programs about the people who hoard trash and need professionals to come in and help them divide up what they're keeping from what they're tossing out or giving away. Unfortunately, though I was well enough to leave my sickbed, every time I tried to do something active, like pick up my son, for instance, or walk from one end of the apartment to the other, I started coughing again, hard enough to make myself gag.
  
  Though Adam explained the situation to our apartment manager and asked for a few more days to get the place ready before they came to look at it, he was told that we could not have it. We fully expected to be served with an eviction notice and were trying to figure out just where to go from here, both metaphorically and literally. The option to pack a few clothes, toys, and mementos into the back of our car and move ourselves, unencumbered, to another state was beginning to sound like a half-decent idea. We spent a lot of time praying that God would bring us a miracle and it would be clear to us what we should do next. I wasn't sure whether to expect the cleaning fairies to come in the middle of the night (I was rooting for that, myself), the apartment complex to burn down while we were out, or something else just as extraordinary.
  
  In the end, while it was clearly the miracle we'd been praying for, the management company's decision to give us another week to clean up the mess we'd been living in wasn't quite so dramatic as I'd hoped. The afternoon we received that notice, we discussed it and both of us felt that we needed to take this opportunity to do the right thing and, being sufficiently recovered to move freely without breaking into coughing fits, start the hard work of putting our house back in order. Over the better part of four days, with a couple of hours of hired help from a joyful janitorial service, we thoroughly cleaned our entire apartment. The few shreds of dignity I still have intact keep me from revealing just how many bags of rubbish we took to the dumpster, but it was more than I would have guessed, even from the middle of the mess. In addition to the bags of trash, we got rid of several pieces of furniture that had become broken beyond repair. While we weren't able to make everything look quite as good as when we'd moved in, we were pretty amazed and proud of what we were able to accomplish in just under a week. When the apartment manager returned to make her repeat inspection, she stepped into the door and immediately told us the place looked awesome and we'd done a great job.
  
  
• During our escapade of cleaning and tidying, we rearranged Adam's home office. Unfortunately, we managed to do something that killed our wireless connection. I'm not sure whether the problem is with the laptop, which was in "hibernate" mode when we unplugged everything, or with the router itself. I am able to connect to the internet using a network cable, but that isn't terribly convenient when the router lives in the office and the laptop is supposed to have its home base on my desk in the living room.
  
  Additionally, there has been a separate (we think) problem with Adam's work computer which the IT people have not yet been able to fix remotely. He's had to work at the office for most of the past week and a half. It's been a huge change for us, having just gotten used to him working from home since December. Now he's been gone again for 10-12 hours a day. We all miss him, but Ian, especially has been taking it hard. The other night, for the last hour or so of Adam's shift, he kept walking over to the window, pointing out, and crying. This morning, Adam was told to disconnect his CPU and bring it in for them to work on directly. I have hopes that by the end of the week he will have a fully functioning system and be able to cut out his commute once again.
  
  
• The other day I brought the DVD of Mr. Mom home from the library. I've been thinking about that movie a lot the past several weeks. Recently, Adam and I had decided for sure that we would be making plans to switch primary roles. He'll be staying home with the kids and I'll be going back to work full time. I'm both excited and scared by the idea. I haven't worked full time since before we were married. In fact, now that I think about it, since before we met! I've had to completely rewrite my resume. I've been putting the finishing touches on it for the last two weeks or so, in between being sick and cleaning house. There is one job opening I already know I'll be applying for, but I haven't spent too much time seeing what's out there yet. The nice thing about this transition is--now that we're not required to leave our current residence within 7 days--we have time to look around and find a position that would really be suitable for me and for the whole family. I really appreciate that I'm not having to look for a job because we're out of work and need the money, but I can be a bit more choosy as I consider where I'd like to apply.

So, there we have it. My life in a nutshell or three. I'm hoping, as things calm down here over the next few weeks (please, God, let things calm down here), to write more about some of the above points in whole blog posts of their own, but for now, this will have to do. Meanwhile, if anybody has thoughts on how to make my wifi work again, I would be terribly grateful. Thanks!

So Not Super

My children are driving me crazy. One more than the other, but both are contributing.

Today is a day I really wish we had normal weekend Saturdays like the majority of folks. I just want a lazy Saturday afternoon to go play in the snow at the park or something. Instead I'm "supervising" the kids while they're cleaning potato chips off the living room rug.

I put it in quotes because, clearly, as I'm writing a blog post right now, I'm not doing much in the way of supervising. Of course, they're not doing much in the way of cleaning either.

Rosi is flipping through a book of cross stitch samplers asking me, "What does X have to do with apples? Apples don't start with an X."

Ian is climbing into the toy box and sitting on top of the toys with his little feet sticking up in the air.

Deep breath.

Okay. I guess I can go be the grown up.

But later, I'm goofing off.

New Year's Eve

Adam doesn't get off work for another hour, then it's just one hour until the new year. I've sent Rosi to bed, three or four times now, and I'm currently watching the second Baby Signing Time DVD with Ian. He's being cranky and fighting sleep. He's also got molars coming in and he keeps biting me, which is making me cranky.

At least we get to chill out tomorrow. Our big plan is picking up a fruit basket from the local supermarket (that was our "Christmas bonus" from Adam's company). Then we'll come home, eat fruit and popcorn and watch the original trio of Muppet movies.

Wishing everyone a happy and prosperous new year. I'm going to try putting my baby to bed.

Unbelievable

I can't believe it. No, really, I simply cannot fathom that a whole year has passed since my baby boy was born.

Where has the time gone? Surely it's only been six, or maybe nine months. He's not a little baby anymore. Sniff. He's a husky toddler stomping around the house is his snow boots and grabbing things off the counter.

I look at all the adorable little "My First Christmas" sleepers and wonder if he ever really was that small.

I know he was. When he was first born, even the 0-3 clothes were much too big for him. Now he's outgrowing all of his 9-month stuff. Sigh.

Adam and I have finally decided what to call him ... on the blog, I mean. We went ahead and named him right away in real life. It is with great joy that I present to you the birthday boy: Ian Gray.

Happy first birthday, Buddy! May you greet the rest of your years with as much verve and determination as you have this one. With much love, your Mamie.

(Birthday drawing by Rosi, who says, "I drew his age, too, so everybody would know he's one year old!")

Round Robin

The term usually brings to mind good things: ping pong games, family newsletters, the first stray scene from City Slickers ... fun stuff.

Unfortunately, we've been playing host to a round robin tournament for bacteria and virus strains living in our house. Each of us has gotten sick with at least two separate illnesses in the last two weeks. Yuck.

I hesitate to say so, for fear of being proven wrong, but I think we are all finally on the mend. If we really are, I have some plans for cooking and crocheting posts in the next few weeks. I had been hoping to post about some projects in the works, but they were pushed to the back burner while we all have been boosting our immune system activity and making sure there is enough tissue in the house.

***Update***

Dang. Not five minutes after I hit "Publish Post" I was cleaning baby spew off the carpet.

Don't pass out holding your breath for those new creative posts.

You Can't Handle the Tooth

I didn't quite realize it had been over a month since I'd updated this blog. Time flies when you're having, uhm, fun.

I've been keeping busy through the last days of summer working on a deep cleaning and reorganizing of the house, getting my ideas and plans together to really dive into homeschooling this fall, and just generally thinking thoughts that don't necessarily translate so well to a post. The last few days, however, have offered several newsworthy items that I'd like to share.

For starters, baby teeth are busting out all over in our family. One of the kids is growing 'em in while the other one is yanking 'em right out.

"Mom," Rosi told me the other day as I got into the car. "I have a loose tooth!"

Since we had just recently seen the movie Tooth Fairy, I didn't think too much about it at first. But, we had to stop for gas, so while she, the baby, and I waited for Adam to fill the tank, I asked her to lean forward so I could check it out. Sure enough, one of the teeth on the bottom was getting pretty wiggly.

The next day, we were back in the car and she announced, "My tooth came out!" She'd already practiced this announcement several times, so at first neither Adam nor I reacted much. Then I asked to see it and held my hand into the back seat, expecting to get a giggle and reassurance, "I was just joking."

Instead, into my palm plopped a tiny, still bloody tooth. She's convinced that she's a real grown up now because she's getting her grown-up teeth.

Meanwhile, our son has six teeth fully grown in, four on top and two on bottom, with four more not quite breaking through the gums. Oh, and, yeah, he started walking this past week. That makes us two for two on early walkers. Both of them took their first steps at nine months.

All of which leaves me asking myself, where exactly is that pause button on life so we can relax and enjoy these moments a little more?