Parenting
Yes, already, don’t tell me it’s autumn (my favorite season because of apples, not pumpkins) because in Minnesota it is a quick downward spiral to below zero temps. So yes, while I’m trying to soak up the beautiful leaves changing and the puffy vests, I know what’s coming. Combine that knowledge with the fact that it gets increasingly difficult for my big belly to crawl into the attic to get winter stuff out (and baby girl–did I tell you we found out it’s a girl! And we named her so the kids will definitely blurt it out if they see you in person), and I’m prepping for winter. First, I did my least favorite chore: sorted the kids summerish-don’t-fit-anymore clothing and made a stack of things to store upstairs. SuperBoy is only six but he’s a seven in length and a five in waist so that makes clothing . . . interesting. Thank goodness for those internal elastic button things and for uniform pants. SweetPea is still very petite but now tall-ish so we have the waist of 2-3T and the length of 4T. Again, grateful that I can and have made a ton of leggings for her lanky skinny bum. MonsterTot is a typical 2T so his sizing is easier. Second, I took stock in what I have for the toddler–many of my favorite winter items were used by both kids and therefore pretty demolished (wool sweaters, wool socks, etc) and the state of hand-me-downs for the older two.…
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Hi friends! Linking up with Kelly & crew. I feel like I’ve been so absent from my lil blog lately and it’s mostly been because of the wonderful weekend retreat we hosted for the Blessed is She team, but also a little because getting into the groove of having a first grader and part-time preschooler means I’m living in my car. People always talked about being a mom meant living in your car. I had no idea what they meant. 1// My car has bug spray, raisins, wipes, water bottles, a variety of Jim Weiss cds, and a handful of changes of clothing. And these are the items I actually have planned to have in there. Remnants of all of them are scattered and dug into the upholstery. First grade is awesome! SuperBoy loves it so much. I’m getting accustomed to not worrying about what he’s doing and just cherish that he is enjoying himself, learning, and making new friends. A handful of hours a week of nature prek has been a dream for our lil SweetPea! I was (of course, really? yes, of course) more nervous than she was as she watched her big bro go through it all last year. She never says goodbye, she tells me to leave her at the classroom door, and she can’t contain her joy when we pick her up because she got really, really muddy. She’s doing Catechesis too and her favorite part? Playing with lentils because “they’re like dog food.” There you…
Read MoreIt’s not the screaming. It’s not the tantruming. It’s not even the incessant stream of fights that break out only when I’m in the bathroom. Or the sticky mashup of oats & bananas that turns to concrete under their chairs. It’s the household. Instead of having a job with measured successes and failures, my experience as an at-home mom is that now my measurable success or failure is my house. How clean is it? How tidy? How organized? How decorated? How cluttered? How beautiful? Now I’m not even talking about what other people think. I’m sure people come into our home and think beautiful 100 year old architecture with 100 year old cobwebs, too? It’s never super clean unless we’re having an actual party (sorry friends who come by! I will not dust most likely. I may run a vacuum.). It’s usually semi-tidy with great efforts on everyone’s behalf. But the reason why it feels like a mirror to my internal success as an at-home parent is because it is where I am and what I do all day long. To me, it feels cluttered even if I just purged and cleaned. To me, it feels like the kitchen floor is goopy again even if I just mopped yesterday. To me, the inability to stay on top of every load of laundry feels like epic failure, akin to not turning in a legal brief before the court’s deadline. To me, the stack of dishes in the sink that may not get…
Read MoreKelly and co have the best wrap-up of their weeks so I’m hopping over to add my very small $.02. //1// Our oldest started school! I survived! He loved it! I stopped crying! I almost remembered everything (signed slips, lunches, water bottle) every day. And we all hoofed it over there each morning, full dressed. The dressed part felt like a real accomplishment. He said he had a “great” time at pickup each day so I think it’s a good start to the year. //2// The younger two are trying to figure out the meaning of life without their captain around telling them what to do. It’s been tricky. So far they’ve emptied the garbage, filled the garbage, cut up lots of little pieces of paper, made weapons out of thin air, and waxed poetic about their tyrannical missing sibling. Suddenly no one remembers the summer of bickering and instead hold only sweet sweet memories. Oh, to be a kid. //3// I’m bursting with home improvement ideas I want to do before it’s winter and the baby comes. I’m not so sure AA wants to do any of them. I keep adding to the list. We’ll see what actually gets accomplished. Making my closet into a nursery (hey, it has a window and door, so . . . ), painting the bathroom that I painted lavender the last pregnancy and suddenly have a severe aversion to, all the closets! The attic! everything! //4// Which do you like better? These? Or…
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Meals meals meals. How I do love to cook and eat (when unhindered by little ones). I know some moms are awesome about their kids being super involved with meal prep and while I do make an effort for that by necessity as they’re always with me while I’m prepping food, honestly, I love being alone in the kitchen. A brief run down of what we ate on our vacation-staycation from a few weeks back. Here’s last year’s peek too! Coop granola & seasoned ground pork for yummmmmmy sausage patties. Blueberry & banana & milk smoothie! Shredded pork, homemade guac via Alice Waters, chopped romaine, shredded cheddar, and black beans. King Arthur’s pancakes with loads of Hope Creamery butter! French Almond granola, plain whole milk yogurt, chopped dates, and blue berries! Monster sandwich with roast beef, turkey, ham, two kinds f cheese, onions, lettuce, avocado and lil dippers with hummus. This rhubarb crisp. Never look back. Peaches, cherry tomatoes, almonds, goat cheese, romaine, yup! Layers and layers of lasagna with mild spiced ground pork from the coop, lots of cheese, and homemade sauce. Don’t forget the basil and pepper. Another shot of the crisp. I may have doubled the topping. Snooker doodles. What a weird name for a cookie that I devoured in about 25 minutes. Nearly lots of them. Not telling how many. Okay. A lot. Family recipe! — Even though I’ve been in NYC all week, feasting like a queen with my brother-in-law the chef and on baby watch for my…
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Oh, gee, thanks for pointing out the obvious, Nell. Because no one is perfect. I guess what I mean is that you don’t have to wait until you’re totally amazingly the best version of yourself before you’re ready to commit in a relationship. I was only 26 when I got married and thought I was in pretty good shape. AHEM. I had experienced heart ache and heart crush. Breakups that changed me; relationships that I outgrew. I had attended college in at a huge state university and found my path there, and law school at a tiny Catholic one that helped form me in totally different ways. (Less clawing through lines to get registered, more running around volunteering and bringing people cookies.) Here’s what I didn’t know. And why I wasn’t in great shape. I didn’t know that it’s not about being married when you’re the best version of yourself. I thought that my experiences and sheer will power had crafted me into a pretty rocking person who was ready to commit for a lifetime with another person because being ready meant being “perfect” in a sense. Otherwise how could I say I was ready to be married if I hadn’t already gotten to this state of great self-assured knowledge myself? But for me, and maybe it’s different for you, being married now over seven years means I’ve had to adapt and change and truly become different on a molecular level (yes, that’s part of biologically being a mother) for the…
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