Help! I am in need of some mommy back-up here. I feel like I'm not nearly as productive as I'd like to be. Not that I expect to be accomplishing that much with 3 kids 5 and under, but I feel like my lack of organization is sort of ruining our lives lately. I'm not good at planning in advance. I'm sort of a fly by the seat of my pajamas kind of girl; Instead of running our lives on a schedule, I wait until I'm in the mood to do things like cleaning, paying bills, setting up play dates for the kids, etc. I feel like that has worked okay so far, but now that Emma's getting older and we're on the brink of signing up for more extracurricular activities and starting kindergarten, etc., I feel like I need to have more of a plan for how our lives go.
Do I need a momgenda? That word "momgenda" sort of freaks me out. I already wear sweatpants all the time and I'm about to start driving a minivan. If I'm consulting a momgenda too, then I might just not recognize myself anymore.
What's the answer to my momlemma?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sick and tired
The past week has not been my week. I have cleaned up puke (not my own), ruined Valentine's Day, spent a restless night almost puking, thinking for sure I was going to, but not (is there anything worse? Besides actually puking?), dealt with a sick baby, a sick Charlie and a sick Emma, soothed a separation-anxiety-laden Charlie, the list goes on and on. And now I think I have a cold. Remember before you had kids, how when you were sick, you got to stay home and be sick all day? That was awesome.
Going to bed now...
Going to bed now...
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Notes from the kitchen table
I have been carrying a spiral notebook around with me in my diaper bag just in case some little wrinkle in time allows me the free time and brain cells to write for a little while. So far, it is filled with Emma's drawings of rainbows and princesses and maybe a few grocery lists. I'm just itching to write, but it is truly difficult to find the time to do so these days. Right now I'm writing this on my Dana, basically a palm pilot with a keyboard. You could in theory write a whole novel on a Dana and then plug it into your computer, download it and email it off to publishers. I bought it thinking I would do this, but it hasn't worked out that way.
Emma just walked up to me and said, "Mommy, are you writing stories about mommies?" Charlie is on the real computer listening to songs from
Well, now I have to get ready for a playdate. I'd really rather stay in my jammies and keep writing at the kitchen table, but life in Mommy Town does not stop because I'm feeling writerly. It's actually pretty nice out today and we're meeting friends at a park, so it will be worth getting out of jammies for I have no doubt.
I think my plan for this post will be to write little bits here and there when I can...sort of a stream of consciousness thing. (Consciousness is a really tricky word to spell). So I'm headed to a playdate now...I'll see you later.
Okay, I'm back now. The last six hours were really fun, definitely better than sitting around typing in my pjs. It is very un-February-like outside and we were able to play at the park for hours without coats on. I forget how wonderful it is to feel the sun after so many months spent indoors. I felt so invigorated by our time outside that I came home and cleaned out the car and the garage. Well, neither is really clean clean. I sort of rearranged the garage and put a bunch of stuff in the trunk to give to Goodwill. And then I swept out all the leaves and gross stuff. The car is still not really clean by normal people standards, but considering I have been driving three little kids around in a VW Passat for the last three months, it's looking pretty decent. We're planning on getting a Routan (check out that link to "make a baby without making a baby") soon. It seems like the minivan that will give us the most bang for our buck. I have to say, I'm pretty excited about the prospect of driving a minivan. I am ready to embrace my status as a suburban mom of three. I am also looking into signing the kids up for soccer soon. And I'm totally pumped about going to upcoming birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese, Gymini, and two different Pump It Ups. I am fully aware that I am turning into a bit of a stereotype. I am not such a stereotype when you look up close though. I am still the same me that I was when I was 18 in many ways. I remember my mom saying once that no matter how old you get you're still looking out of the same eyes. I definitely feel like I'm looking out of the same eyes; it's just that soon my eyes will be looking out of the windshield of a minivan.
So anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, cleaning out the garage and the car. Teddy was asleep upstairs and the kids were having a blast riding their bikes in the driveway. I kept striking up conversations with neighbors I have only waved to with a gloved hand from inside the car. It has been too cold for chit chatting with neighbors until today. My neighbors and I live on top of each other and our townhouses all face each other, so it's like we're staring at each other constantly, but there's not a lot of chit chatting usually. Today, people I've never really spoken to asked me about the baby. They've probably been watching me from their kitchen....they probably saw me waddling around my own kitchen for nine months and then watched as we brought Teddy home from the hospital. Every night they probably see Teddy swinging back and forth in his cradle swing while I’m cooking or losing my patience with the kids. We've watched the neighbors do stuff too, so it's pretty even. It's interesting that we all know so much about each other, but we don't really know each other. I guess the closer in proximity that you live to other people, the more likely you are to have your guard up, to define your space a little more. Or maybe it's just the cold weather that does it because people were very friendly today.
I'm supposed to be folding laundry while the kids watch Yo Gabba Gabba and Teddy finishes his marathon nap. I'm so over folding laundry. It always makes me feel like Sisyphus. Even if I actually get to the bottom of the laundry hamper today, it will be filled up again by tomorrow. Argh. For some reason though I don't resent the cloth diapers and the laundry they produce. I think it's because they're really easy to put away and they are sort of laundry with a higher calling. Everything else is just our same dumb old clothes, but washing the diapers makes me feel proud, like Al Gore would give me an A+.
I think I'm actually going to go wake Teddy up. It's been 3.5 hours that he's been sleeping. Maybe I'll get in some more writing later...we'll see.
I'm back...We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner (again). We eat that once a week these days. The kids always go on and on about what a good cook I am when I make spaghetti and meatballs. The sad part is that it's one of the only meals I don't make from scratch. I use jarred sauce and pre-made turkey meatballs from the store. The kids ate tons of spaghetti and meatballs tonight because of all the playing and bike riding they did earlier. I love when I feel like they've had a full day of hanging out with friends and fresh air and exercise. I wish I could make life like that for them everyday.
Teddy worked hard too. He is really trying to roll over. He's almost there. He gets over to his side and just likes to hang out there for a while. It's like he could roll over, but he's just not feeling it, so he doesn't. He's still the cutest baby in the whole world. And the sweetest. I think he should get some sort of award. Well...I think I'm going to call it a day and see what my friend Tivo has waiting for me. Hope you enjoyed a day in the life of Mommy town!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Pork Butt Three Ways
Have you ever made pork butt before? It sounds appetizing doesn't it? I had never made it until Saturday. Guess what? It's delicious. See below for a recipe for Pulled Pork Tacos that I generally followed, but didn't have the cocoa and made a 6 lb pork butt instead of the specified 2.5 lb pork butt. It all worked out though. All you do is rub the spices all over the butt of the pork and then let it do its thing in the slow cooker all day long. It will make your house smell all delicious and like you are some kind of pork cooking master. The pulled pork tacos are very simple to assemble and are basically a means of shoveling lots of luscious, tender, falling apart pork butt into your mouth.
If you, like me, decide to make a giant pork butt of the 6-lb variety, you will find that you have a lot of pork butt on your hands, post-pulled pork tacos. That's okay, because the sky's the limit when it comes to what you can do with leftover pork butt. Here's what I did:
Pork Enchiladas--I got this recipe from Robin's blog. Thanks, Robin! You'll see that the recipe calls for chicken, but just substitute your sumptuous pork and watch the compliments roll in.
Chicken Tamale Casserole--Got this one from Ramona when she brought us this for dinner after Teddy was born. We loved her version (with chicken), so I hope this pork version does it justice.
I'm just making things with pork over here while the snow falls and Charlie coughs and mouth breathes all over me (he has the never-ending cold). What are you up to? Feel free to post any pork ideas or any ideas at all! It's been a long snow day inside and I need some good comments to see me through to bedtime.
Pulled-pork Tacos (from Real Simple magazine)
2 cups store-bought salsa, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons chili powder
2 tablespoons dried oregano
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
Kosher salt
1 2.5-lb boneless pork butt or shoulder, trimmed of excess fat
18 corn tortillas
1/2 cup fresh cilantro sprigs
3/4 cup sour cream
1 lime cut into wedges
1. In a 4 to 6 quart slow cooker, combine the salsa, chili powder, oregano, cocoa and 1 teaspoon salt. Add the pork and turn to coat.
2. Cook, covered, until the meat is tender and pulls apart easily, on high for 4 to 5 hours or on low for 7 to 8 hours.
3. Twenty minutes before serving, heat oven to 350. Stack the tortillas, wrap them in foil and bake until warm, about 15 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, using 2 forks, shred the pork and stir it into the cooking liquid. Serve with the tortillas, cilantro, sour cream, lime and extra salsa.
Serves 6
Love,
Elizabeth
If you, like me, decide to make a giant pork butt of the 6-lb variety, you will find that you have a lot of pork butt on your hands, post-pulled pork tacos. That's okay, because the sky's the limit when it comes to what you can do with leftover pork butt. Here's what I did:
Pork Enchiladas--I got this recipe from Robin's blog. Thanks, Robin! You'll see that the recipe calls for chicken, but just substitute your sumptuous pork and watch the compliments roll in.
Chicken Tamale Casserole--Got this one from Ramona when she brought us this for dinner after Teddy was born. We loved her version (with chicken), so I hope this pork version does it justice.
I'm just making things with pork over here while the snow falls and Charlie coughs and mouth breathes all over me (he has the never-ending cold). What are you up to? Feel free to post any pork ideas or any ideas at all! It's been a long snow day inside and I need some good comments to see me through to bedtime.
Pulled-pork Tacos (from Real Simple magazine)
2 cups store-bought salsa, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons chili powder
2 tablespoons dried oregano
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
Kosher salt
1 2.5-lb boneless pork butt or shoulder, trimmed of excess fat
18 corn tortillas
1/2 cup fresh cilantro sprigs
3/4 cup sour cream
1 lime cut into wedges
1. In a 4 to 6 quart slow cooker, combine the salsa, chili powder, oregano, cocoa and 1 teaspoon salt. Add the pork and turn to coat.
2. Cook, covered, until the meat is tender and pulls apart easily, on high for 4 to 5 hours or on low for 7 to 8 hours.
3. Twenty minutes before serving, heat oven to 350. Stack the tortillas, wrap them in foil and bake until warm, about 15 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, using 2 forks, shred the pork and stir it into the cooking liquid. Serve with the tortillas, cilantro, sour cream, lime and extra salsa.
Serves 6
Love,
Elizabeth
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Be My Valentine, Miracle Blanket
Lately the kids are hooked on Charlie Brown DVDs. Uncle Bradley gave them the deluxe box set of Peanuts movies for Christmas (thank you, Uncle Bradley!) and so now we don't have to wait for ABC to run the appropriate holiday Charlie Brown movie. We can watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving or It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown any old day of the week.
Every day that Charlie (my Charlie) has preschool, he comes home tired. He unbuttons his coat, slips off his shoes and asks if he can watch a Charlie Brown video--it's sort of Charlie's version of having a cocktail after a long day at the office. Since I am generally surviving on very little sleep and pretty tired myself these days, I usually say yes to his request for more Charlie Brown. Today the kids watched Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. This led to a discussion at dinner about being in love and what that means. Can you be in love with spaghetti and meatballs? Does this mean you're going to marry spaghetti and meatballs? I was in and out of Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown, but I guess there is a lot of love talk in that movie (or at least more than in, say, You're Not Elected, Charlie Brown).
While I do like spaghetti and meatballs a lot, I would not say I'm in love with them. I do not want to marry them. I do have a few things that I am in love with at the moment, though. And if I weren't already very happily married to Brandon, I might consider marrying them (in an imaginary Emma and Charlie world where you are allowed to marry things, food and/or your own baby). Here's a list of what I'm in love with at the moment:
Every day that Charlie (my Charlie) has preschool, he comes home tired. He unbuttons his coat, slips off his shoes and asks if he can watch a Charlie Brown video--it's sort of Charlie's version of having a cocktail after a long day at the office. Since I am generally surviving on very little sleep and pretty tired myself these days, I usually say yes to his request for more Charlie Brown. Today the kids watched Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. This led to a discussion at dinner about being in love and what that means. Can you be in love with spaghetti and meatballs? Does this mean you're going to marry spaghetti and meatballs? I was in and out of Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown, but I guess there is a lot of love talk in that movie (or at least more than in, say, You're Not Elected, Charlie Brown).
While I do like spaghetti and meatballs a lot, I would not say I'm in love with them. I do not want to marry them. I do have a few things that I am in love with at the moment, though. And if I weren't already very happily married to Brandon, I might consider marrying them (in an imaginary Emma and Charlie world where you are allowed to marry things, food and/or your own baby). Here's a list of what I'm in love with at the moment:
- The Miracle Blanket. I was about to give up on ever sleeping more than an hour at a time...and then the miracle blanket came into my life. It is like a little straight jacket for babies and it is amazing how much it helps them sleep. Teddy started sleeping long stretches the first night with the miracle blanket. He even put himself to sleep in it one night! Amazing! I am dedicating my first book to the miracle blanket.
- Teddy's room. I didn't set up a nursery for Teddy right away because we only have three bedrooms--one is Mommy and Daddy's room, one is Emma and Charlie's room and one was sort of a man room/guestroom/place to put all the unsightly toys and mismatched furniture. It was really a cute room as you can imagine. For some reason, before Teddy was born, I thought we needed to preserve this room so that it could fill its many functions. And I figured Teddy would be in Mommy and Daddy's room for a while anyway, so why mess with the ugly man/guestroom? After being in Austin for Christmas for two weeks, I came back and saw our house with fresh eyes and realized the ugly man/guestroom was valuable square footage that could be turned into something much more useful than as a place to put guests and husbands and piles of stuffed animals. So, I decided to move Teddy's hammock bed and changing table into that room and move the TV into Mommy and Daddy's room. Having a TV in our bedroom is not really the most romantic thing in the world, but it was either we have the TV there or put it right next to the other TV in the living room and pretend like we're living at the gym or a sports bar. Teddy's room is still pretty sparse, but I kind of like its sparseness. I kept the futon in there just in case we ever have any guests. So basically there's a futon, a changing table and a baby hammock and that's about it. I have some watercolor pictures that Emma did a long time ago hanging on the wall in frames. It's still pretty bare, but I love going in that room now. Somehow it makes Teddy feel so much more real to me. He takes up a room--he's not just crashing over in the corner. Plus, I love how clean and simple the room is. It feels like starting over in there. Like a blank slate.
- Cheese. Not just any cheese either...parrano cheese is the one I want to marry. I tried it for the first time a month or so ago when I was in Whole Foods with Charlie. Charlie loves cheese and he always wants to try the free cheese samples at Whole Foods. His young palate did not approve of the parrano cheese and this was apparent by the way he pulled an already sucked on piece of cheese from his mouth and handed it to me. I, however, loved this cheese. It was a beautiful moment in Whole Foods when the cheese and I were first were introduced. I don't know if you're familiar with parrano cheese (I wasn't until Charlie pointed it out), but it is a combination of sort of a Parmesan-y and a gouda-ish cheese. It's described on wikipedia as "mild and nutty, combining salty and sweet flavors." It's the kind of thing that you eat and you are just so thankful that someone cares enough to make stuff this good. It really does restore your faith in humanity (and cheese).
- Teddy. He exceeds all baby expectations. I can't say enough good things about him. I'm totally head-over-heels for Teddy. Sure he has his moody times, his I don't-really-care-that-you-have-a-million-things-to-do-I-want-you-to-hold-me times. But don't we all? I love that he sucks his knuckles sometimes when he's sleeping. I love his crazy hair and his eyes that are a million different colors at once. I love that he is not stingy with the smiles or the cuddles. I love how he tolerates the fierce love of his brother and sister. I love that he has come into our family and made it into this new, wonderful thing.
- Alice Munro. I asked for the Alice Munro book Runaway for Christmas. I got two copies of it. (Thanks, Uncle Bradley once again! And thanks Gigi & Granddad!) I have been reading it and I'm about halfway through maybe. Alice Munro is like the parrano cheese of short story writing. Her stories are nothing short of perfection. You'll start out reading one and you're like hmmmm....this is a story about old people in Canada. Surely this story will be boring. But it isn't. Each one takes you to an unexpected place, the character that you thought would have nothing to offer you is in fact as complex and real and human as if they were sitting right next to you. The way her stories unfold is nothing short of a miracle; when you get to the end of one you realize that, sort of like your own life, things couldn't have happened any other way. Love, love, love that Alice Munro.
- Tina Fey. I'm so glad Emma is growing up in a world with Tina Fey in it. If I had known Tina Fey existed back when I was in high school I think it would've given me so much more hope, so much more to shoot for. Who knew that when I was in high school watching Teen Witch on HBO for the zillionth time, Tina Fey was too? Did anyone else see Kenneth's "Top That" rap on 30 Rock last week? I was beside myself with excitement when I saw that. My anti-TV friends are going "what?" right about now. I won't bother explaining the Teen Witch reference. If you know what I'm talking about, then you'll know how funny it was. It felt like a Tina Fey shout out to nerdy, funny girls everywhere. It made my heart soar. I also loved her "suck it" speech at the Golden Globes. Top that!
- Brandon. What can I say here that won't make everyone want to puke from mushiness? I love him for his patience and his acceptance of me, for his devotion to our family and for his uncanny ability to make me not only happy, but content. I love that we find the same things funny and the same things not funny. I love that he will watch the Golden Globes with me (and seem genuinely excited when Kate Winslet wins) when (yet another) playoff football game is going on. Lately what I love most of all is that he can always put Teddy to sleep with this little dance that he does that's like swaying and bouncing all at the same time. It takes a real man to dance like that. I love you, Brandon...more than spaghetti and meatballs and more than parrano cheese. Even more than miracle blankets. Now that's saying a lot.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The clock is ticking
I have one hour and fifteen minutes until I have to pick Emma and Charlie up from preschool. Teddy fell asleep about ten minutes after I got home from dropping off the kids. What have I done with the past hour and a half of glorious free time you ask? Ummmm....I really couldn't say. I spent a good deal of it catching myself up on my own blog. I haven't even looked at the thing for several weeks. I used to feel guilty about that, but now I have no problem taking a break from documenting my own life. Sometimes you just have to focus on living (L-I-V-I-N) and save the documenting for a quieter time. Or at least that's how I rationalize it. So, it would seem that that quieter time has actually arrived...at least it's quiet at this particular moment. There's no telling how long the quiet will last, though. With a new baby in the house it's always hard to know how long you've got until the next feeding, how long the current nap will be...could be 20 minutes, could be 3 hours.
And because you never know how long you've got, it's always hard to know what task to tackle when you do finally have a few seconds (or minutes, or hours) to yourself. Do I finish transforming the mountain of pre-drilled particle board I bought at Target into playroom storage? I am itching to complete this project (projeck) because I still suffer from the delusion that I will one day have a clean and organized playroom. For those of you who have been on this blog journey with me for a while, you may remember I was blogging about organizing the playroom at this time last year. There have also been all the other billions of times I have rearranged the playroom and not even blogged about it. (I know, I have cheated you out of so many playroom organization posts, I'm sorry.) Only Brandon can know the full extent to which I obsess over playroom organization. It is my motherhood holy grail. Deep down I know I will never really achieve the Real Simple vision of a playroom that I have embedded in my mind. But still, I persevere. So, I bought a ton of that cheap ClosetMaid organizing stuff from Target in the hopes that our lives could be a little less cluttered in '09. We'll see...
Anyway, I can't really put the ClosetMaid stuff together because it involves a whole lot of banging and cursing on my part and I don't think that's in the best interest of Teddy napping. It turns out Teddy has slept long enough that I could've gotten a decent nap in, but I hate to spend my precious me time unconscious. I know I'd probably feel better afterward, but I sort of want to be awake to enjoy the quiet and not miss a minute of hearing the central heat cutting on or the ice maker depositing another batch of ice into the freezer. Ahhhh...quiet. I love you.
I could've maybe cleaned something or prepped dinner, paid bills, or some other productive task. Bor-ing. I'll save that for when the big kids are home and Teddy's hanging out in his swing smiling and doing his little spastic arm movements that make it seem as though he is waving at you. I love when babies can't control their arms and their feet. It's like, "whoa, where'd this arm come from? Whoops, here comes my foot!" It's so charming how little control they have over their body parts.
In the same way, I guess I have very little control over my schedule these days. For a while yesterday it was looking like it was going to snow last night. There was talk of freezing streets, treacherous commutes and possible school closings. I went to the store yesterday and diligently bought toilet paper like everyone else in the DC area. After several years of living here, I have learned that that is what you do when there is talk of snow. When I woke up this morning my first thought was to look outside and see what the weather had brought us. What would our destiny be? Turns out it's just gray and rainy. No snow, or ice. Just a whole lot of toilet paper.
My time and really my life are not my own. I am in a season of life when one never knows when they will get to shower or sleep or eat or when a snow storm will blow in and cancel preschool. At least I'm assuming this phase of having no control is in fact a phase and not a life-sentence. Am I wrong?
I can't even imagine a time when my life will be my own, when the quiet time outweighs the hectic, loud, chaotic time that generally rules my life. Part of me never wants Teddy to grow up. He is most likely our last baby and I am mourning his babyhood even as he lives it. Part of me can't wait to have a little control over things again, to have long leisurely sessions to write, to finally finish what I'm working on and not feel like such a writing fraud. But that control comes at a high price. Basically, I will finally get to that stage when my kids are grown and don't need me so much anymore. The organized playroom will probably only become a reality when no one is playing anymore. The clock is ticking....the kids are growing up even as I write this. I have now used up all of my preschool/nap time. Oh well. I don't think it was a complete waste. Time spent realizing how quickly time passes is time well spent in my opinion. (Say that three times fast.) And now, I have to go. Me time is officially over.
And because you never know how long you've got, it's always hard to know what task to tackle when you do finally have a few seconds (or minutes, or hours) to yourself. Do I finish transforming the mountain of pre-drilled particle board I bought at Target into playroom storage? I am itching to complete this project (projeck) because I still suffer from the delusion that I will one day have a clean and organized playroom. For those of you who have been on this blog journey with me for a while, you may remember I was blogging about organizing the playroom at this time last year. There have also been all the other billions of times I have rearranged the playroom and not even blogged about it. (I know, I have cheated you out of so many playroom organization posts, I'm sorry.) Only Brandon can know the full extent to which I obsess over playroom organization. It is my motherhood holy grail. Deep down I know I will never really achieve the Real Simple vision of a playroom that I have embedded in my mind. But still, I persevere. So, I bought a ton of that cheap ClosetMaid organizing stuff from Target in the hopes that our lives could be a little less cluttered in '09. We'll see...
Anyway, I can't really put the ClosetMaid stuff together because it involves a whole lot of banging and cursing on my part and I don't think that's in the best interest of Teddy napping. It turns out Teddy has slept long enough that I could've gotten a decent nap in, but I hate to spend my precious me time unconscious. I know I'd probably feel better afterward, but I sort of want to be awake to enjoy the quiet and not miss a minute of hearing the central heat cutting on or the ice maker depositing another batch of ice into the freezer. Ahhhh...quiet. I love you.
I could've maybe cleaned something or prepped dinner, paid bills, or some other productive task. Bor-ing. I'll save that for when the big kids are home and Teddy's hanging out in his swing smiling and doing his little spastic arm movements that make it seem as though he is waving at you. I love when babies can't control their arms and their feet. It's like, "whoa, where'd this arm come from? Whoops, here comes my foot!" It's so charming how little control they have over their body parts.
In the same way, I guess I have very little control over my schedule these days. For a while yesterday it was looking like it was going to snow last night. There was talk of freezing streets, treacherous commutes and possible school closings. I went to the store yesterday and diligently bought toilet paper like everyone else in the DC area. After several years of living here, I have learned that that is what you do when there is talk of snow. When I woke up this morning my first thought was to look outside and see what the weather had brought us. What would our destiny be? Turns out it's just gray and rainy. No snow, or ice. Just a whole lot of toilet paper.
My time and really my life are not my own. I am in a season of life when one never knows when they will get to shower or sleep or eat or when a snow storm will blow in and cancel preschool. At least I'm assuming this phase of having no control is in fact a phase and not a life-sentence. Am I wrong?
I can't even imagine a time when my life will be my own, when the quiet time outweighs the hectic, loud, chaotic time that generally rules my life. Part of me never wants Teddy to grow up. He is most likely our last baby and I am mourning his babyhood even as he lives it. Part of me can't wait to have a little control over things again, to have long leisurely sessions to write, to finally finish what I'm working on and not feel like such a writing fraud. But that control comes at a high price. Basically, I will finally get to that stage when my kids are grown and don't need me so much anymore. The organized playroom will probably only become a reality when no one is playing anymore. The clock is ticking....the kids are growing up even as I write this. I have now used up all of my preschool/nap time. Oh well. I don't think it was a complete waste. Time spent realizing how quickly time passes is time well spent in my opinion. (Say that three times fast.) And now, I have to go. Me time is officially over.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Extreme Parenting
Today I went to the grocery store with all three kids and I was feeling pretty hardcore. The guys stocking the produce were looking at me, standing there with one baby in a sling and two in a rocket cart, with horror and asking if I needed any help. "Just need to get to the leeks!" I said cheerfully. Yep. Not only am I shopping with three kids. I'm cooking things that require leeks. Hardcore. There were no major tantrums and Teddy slept through the whole experience. The only moments where I was a little worried about potential meltdowns came at the very end when we were in the checkout line. Charlie did not like my choice of checkout lanes. He does not choose which lane to go to based on how short the line is like I do. He chooses based on what Mylar balloon is floating above the magazine/candy rack. So, I moved our giant rocket ship cart to the lane with the race car balloon after some pretty loud protesting from Charlie.
Then the other potential meltdown came when Emma insisted I buy her a Paula Dean cooking magazine. Suddenly the girl who only will eat pizza, spaghetti, quesadillas and Dora yogurt, LOVES Paula Dean. She can't get enough of watching Paula make her recipes, but has no desire to actually eat any of it. I can kind of relate. There is something very comforting about watching Paula cook. I love how she takes off her mammoth diamond rings in order to mix a mountain of ground beef for her bacon covered meat loaf. She is fearless when it comes to using butter, cream cheese and mayonnaise. And she tosses Velveeta into just about anything without even a hint of irony. The thought of eating that stuff though...I can feel my arteries hardening just thinking about it.
I almost didn't buy Emma the magazine because I was feeling all hardcore, like I said earlier. Hardcore moms don't buy magazines in the checkout lane just because of a few tears. I took the magazine away and there was some crying, but eventually Emma got over it. Then I ended up reconsidering and buying the magazine anyway. If it had been candy or a race car balloon Emma wanted to buy, I would've stood my ground, but this was Paula Dean. I handed her the magazine and told her I'd changed my mind. She hugged the magazine to her chest like it was a long-lost bitty twin. All those holiday decorating tips and cookie recipes would be hers now, hers all hers! She positively beamed.
For the most part life with three kids has been a lot like life with two kids, just more extreme. We pretty much are back to our normal routine where the kids are constantly "playing" in that weird way of theirs: by giving the princesses a joy ride in their Kitchen Little refrigerator or by having tea parties on the stairs, right where you need to be walking so that you can change your six-week-old baby's diaper. I was never a huge fan of changing diapers, but Emma and Charlie have managed to make this chore that much more annoying. Every time I climb the stairs to change Teddy, they run to get their little stool so that they can be at a proper height to properly view the diaper change. This is annoying because they only have one step stool, so whoever does not run fast enough to get the stool is out of luck and totally not going to get to see the exciting diaper change. The stooless child invariably cries indignantly and attempts to push the child on the stool off of said stool. Totally annoying. If Charlie happens to be the one to get the stool first, then you have to be prepared to lift one foot up because he loves to plant a leg of the stool right in the middle of your foot. Six weeks in, I have mastered the art of the quick diaper change while standing on one foot.
Just when you get the baby down for his morning nap and have the selfish thought that it might be nice to have a shower and brush your teeth with this delicious bit of free time, Charlie throws open the door and makes his usual loud Charlie entrance to inquire what you're doing, waking not only your baby, but probably all the babies within a five mile radius.
It's definitely a challenge having three kids and it does keep things interesting. Bath time can get a little crazy if Teddy is crying in his bouncy seat and Emma and Charlie are both in need of a rinse or a towel. Who do you help first? On Thanksgiving morning Charlie got into bed to cuddle. Teddy had just finished eating and was sleeping in between me and Charlie. Charlie sat up and proceeded to puke all over Teddy and the bed. I just sat there screaming for a few seconds. I was in a total panic. Should I help Charlie or Teddy first? The puker or the pukee? Luckily it was a holiday and Brandon was home. I yelled for him and we managed to bathe both the baby and Charlie, strip the bed and watch Charlie puke a few more times in the span of about five minutes.
As I write this, Charlie is sitting on my lap and he keeps trying to type over my fingers. Emma is yelling for help upstairs and so I keep having to stop what I'm doing and go help her. My brain feels like a tree with a million branches that don't go anywhere. I feel like every thought I have is a fragment, like every attempt I make at cleaning my house or taking a shower is foiled. I'll put on one of my two shirts that fit right now and are breastfeeding friendly and it gets spit up on. All of these things would've driven me to the loony bin a few years ago...maybe even last year, but I have been in training for this level of parenting. I have been tested and honed by Emma and Charlie and now I am ready for anything Teddy can dish out. (Or spit out as the case may be).
It's hard to imagine Teddy being anything but the angelic little dear who is sweetly snoring in the swing right now. But I know better at this point. He won't always sleep our shopping trips away in a sling. He will have opinions about balloons and magazines and what I should make for dinner. He will most likely balk if puked on. Emma keeps asking me why we don't have hundreds of babies. Having hundreds of babies is sort of like a Paula Dean recipe: too much of a good thing. I'll stick with the three I have. They are definitely all I need for now.
I better go...I've got at least two baby blanket forts to clean up. Charlie has just exclaimed that he needs to go potty "the stand-up way" (which he is not proficient at) and dinner time is in 2 hours, so I better get cracking on those leeks. Probably what will happen though is that Teddy will wake up any second and I will end up sitting in the glider breastfeeding for a nice long stretch, staring at the huge mess all around me, thinking of all the things that need to be done and cleaned and taken care of. And I will sigh with the realization that though no one else probably would, I love my life.
Then the other potential meltdown came when Emma insisted I buy her a Paula Dean cooking magazine. Suddenly the girl who only will eat pizza, spaghetti, quesadillas and Dora yogurt, LOVES Paula Dean. She can't get enough of watching Paula make her recipes, but has no desire to actually eat any of it. I can kind of relate. There is something very comforting about watching Paula cook. I love how she takes off her mammoth diamond rings in order to mix a mountain of ground beef for her bacon covered meat loaf. She is fearless when it comes to using butter, cream cheese and mayonnaise. And she tosses Velveeta into just about anything without even a hint of irony. The thought of eating that stuff though...I can feel my arteries hardening just thinking about it.
I almost didn't buy Emma the magazine because I was feeling all hardcore, like I said earlier. Hardcore moms don't buy magazines in the checkout lane just because of a few tears. I took the magazine away and there was some crying, but eventually Emma got over it. Then I ended up reconsidering and buying the magazine anyway. If it had been candy or a race car balloon Emma wanted to buy, I would've stood my ground, but this was Paula Dean. I handed her the magazine and told her I'd changed my mind. She hugged the magazine to her chest like it was a long-lost bitty twin. All those holiday decorating tips and cookie recipes would be hers now, hers all hers! She positively beamed.
For the most part life with three kids has been a lot like life with two kids, just more extreme. We pretty much are back to our normal routine where the kids are constantly "playing" in that weird way of theirs: by giving the princesses a joy ride in their Kitchen Little refrigerator or by having tea parties on the stairs, right where you need to be walking so that you can change your six-week-old baby's diaper. I was never a huge fan of changing diapers, but Emma and Charlie have managed to make this chore that much more annoying. Every time I climb the stairs to change Teddy, they run to get their little stool so that they can be at a proper height to properly view the diaper change. This is annoying because they only have one step stool, so whoever does not run fast enough to get the stool is out of luck and totally not going to get to see the exciting diaper change. The stooless child invariably cries indignantly and attempts to push the child on the stool off of said stool. Totally annoying. If Charlie happens to be the one to get the stool first, then you have to be prepared to lift one foot up because he loves to plant a leg of the stool right in the middle of your foot. Six weeks in, I have mastered the art of the quick diaper change while standing on one foot.
Just when you get the baby down for his morning nap and have the selfish thought that it might be nice to have a shower and brush your teeth with this delicious bit of free time, Charlie throws open the door and makes his usual loud Charlie entrance to inquire what you're doing, waking not only your baby, but probably all the babies within a five mile radius.
It's definitely a challenge having three kids and it does keep things interesting. Bath time can get a little crazy if Teddy is crying in his bouncy seat and Emma and Charlie are both in need of a rinse or a towel. Who do you help first? On Thanksgiving morning Charlie got into bed to cuddle. Teddy had just finished eating and was sleeping in between me and Charlie. Charlie sat up and proceeded to puke all over Teddy and the bed. I just sat there screaming for a few seconds. I was in a total panic. Should I help Charlie or Teddy first? The puker or the pukee? Luckily it was a holiday and Brandon was home. I yelled for him and we managed to bathe both the baby and Charlie, strip the bed and watch Charlie puke a few more times in the span of about five minutes.
As I write this, Charlie is sitting on my lap and he keeps trying to type over my fingers. Emma is yelling for help upstairs and so I keep having to stop what I'm doing and go help her. My brain feels like a tree with a million branches that don't go anywhere. I feel like every thought I have is a fragment, like every attempt I make at cleaning my house or taking a shower is foiled. I'll put on one of my two shirts that fit right now and are breastfeeding friendly and it gets spit up on. All of these things would've driven me to the loony bin a few years ago...maybe even last year, but I have been in training for this level of parenting. I have been tested and honed by Emma and Charlie and now I am ready for anything Teddy can dish out. (Or spit out as the case may be).
It's hard to imagine Teddy being anything but the angelic little dear who is sweetly snoring in the swing right now. But I know better at this point. He won't always sleep our shopping trips away in a sling. He will have opinions about balloons and magazines and what I should make for dinner. He will most likely balk if puked on. Emma keeps asking me why we don't have hundreds of babies. Having hundreds of babies is sort of like a Paula Dean recipe: too much of a good thing. I'll stick with the three I have. They are definitely all I need for now.
I better go...I've got at least two baby blanket forts to clean up. Charlie has just exclaimed that he needs to go potty "the stand-up way" (which he is not proficient at) and dinner time is in 2 hours, so I better get cracking on those leeks. Probably what will happen though is that Teddy will wake up any second and I will end up sitting in the glider breastfeeding for a nice long stretch, staring at the huge mess all around me, thinking of all the things that need to be done and cleaned and taken care of. And I will sigh with the realization that though no one else probably would, I love my life.
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