whole parenting family
The past six months has been one of the harder seasons on our marriage, that season being the Marathon. To be clear, I wanted him to run it, I wanted him to train for it, and I wanted so much for him to not get injured and be able to complete it. That being said, despite his most valiant efforts, it was rough on me, on us. The silver lining is that post-marathon has been a deluge of quality time, very deliberate time spent together that’s neither cooking nor cleaning up in the post-bedtime evenings, and our very own weekend away. Slow down, Nell. TWO NIGHTS AND TWO DAYS AWAY FROM OUR KIDS!? We haven’t been collectively away from them (and I’ve only had two instances away from the baby, ever, at 17 months) ever. We hadn’t been to our family’s country home (the Lodge) without a child or three in over two years. My generous parents and sister covered the babysitting, the middle of the night awakenings, the church festival, the swim lesson, the mass attendance, the crying fits, the tantrums, and the food thrown on the floor. All while we basked in the complete stillness of the country. And slept almost the whole entire time. But when we weren’t sleeping, we got to talk. Deep talk. The kinds of conversations you simply can’t have over a fatigued evening, a hurried bedtime, a messy house. And I realized these past two post-marathon weeks I’ve felt like a queen in my…
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My newest discovery: I finally feel like where I am, as imperfect as it is, can be awesome without that meaning I’ve given up on ever getting properly dressed. Maybe it’s the night weaning a few months back. Maybe it’s the return of my cycle. Maybe it’s the awesomeness of a five year old as leader of the pack. Something clicked over for me in the past month or two: I really like where I am, even though it’s not perfect nor is it where I plan//hope to be as a person forever. Maybe we start with mere acceptance and fortitude of our circumstances, but where grit has gotten us through turns into a place of love. We can love where we are, WITHOUT IT BEING OUR IDEAL PLACE OR EVEN OUR END GOAL. Now I’ve resorted to shouting on the internet. Sorry. I’ve been in a place where I’ve cheered myself on the frump mom and told me to indulge myself til the cows come home with more ice cream and Netflix. That’s not healthy. I’ve also been in a place where I’m paralyzed by indecision as to which chaotic pile in my life to tackle first, feel guilty and overwhelmed that I’m not on top of everything, and despaired in not being mom-who-does-it-all. That’s also not healthy. So beyond both of those places is this place, right now. It means: The things I don’t like about me and my life aren’t going to stop me from still loving my life. I don’t want…
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(More gems from our photo session with the talented Emily Rumsey) I hurried downstairs after my bath tonight (sore bum from tripping on our freshly and now padded! carpet! padded! basements steps needed a little soak) upon hearing my oldest (5.5) shouting I WON’T and the tell-tale escapee foot-falls. And I had a good idea to whom that punctuated tone was directed. My saintly father who agreed to watch the kids while I bathed. Their “Baba.” The most hands-on Grandfather I could ever dream of. The child whisperer who can whisk three kids out to a riveting and rivalrous game of bocce ball with the neighbor afternoon after afternoon, week after week, and still win while holding the baby in the carrier. The man who reads Tintin in funny voices. The man who rinses cloth diaper poopies out for me with the same frequency with which those diapers are pooped. Maybe your kids don’t see their grandparents enough to be, well, kids, in front of them, or at them. Or maybe they’re not close enough to the grandparent to get to that level of rudeness. We’re lucky enough to have my parents living with us half-time, so those occasions for kids to, well, be kids, arise on a naturally frequent basis. Staring my son down from his hideout on the library couch and firmly guiding him back to the kitchen where the injured party remained with the tot, he knew I meant business. Shouting at his grandfather: never okay. This approach has worked with my kids and…
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photo by the talented Emily Rumsey–more where this outtake came from! complete with my attempted replacement ones. Because I really really am working on being a better wife. And a more loving wife. And a more kind one, too. Because I could really use work on this, I thought about all the things I say to my husband that I really cringe when I hear them aloud. I read an excellent book called The Power of Habit. Part of breaking a habit and shifting your behavior is replacing versus simply stopping cold turkey. Here’s my swap-out list of phrases not to say combined with those which are perhaps a sufficient replacement. As a preface: My husband is a great guy. He’s a wonderful and present father. A doting and kind husband who never ever yells. And right now our marriage is in a good place. These lines might not work if you feel like you’re unevenly yoked or wanting to get insight from an outside counselor for deeper marital or personal challenges. I have great recs for one or three of those if you need them! 1) Didn’t you wash their hands and brush their teeth yet? Using the accusing form of the verb: the one that says, you’re an idiot and I can’t believe you haven’t done a simple task that you should know you should do. It’s so easy to be demeaning to your spouse. It’s so horrible to say that, and maybe it’s just me. Small children…
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She never ceases to shower her children with unending, personalized attention without fatigue or Jim Weiss. They engaged all day long with things like a detailed painting project wherein the child ne’er slides their paintbrush OVER ALL THE FURNITURE IN SIGHT whilst the mother is rummaging through the pantry after the toddler discovered the grandmother’s green food dye and now everything on lower shelves has to be moved. She never shrieks at them to please LEAVE HER ALONE at the swimming pool changing areas, only to emerge and discover the two older had strewn their clothing, wet and dry alike, all over the changing room. All the whilst she was not struggling to get her wet clam-like suit off over her not untanned, unwaxed legs. Whilst she had been getting into said swimming suit, her daughter had asked her “is it supposed to be so tight?” 😐 She never escapes to her sewing studio, and certainly would never perform 90’s dance moves (alone, upper body only) to Uptown Funk (at a volume of 10 out of 5) because her husband is home and she would never need to have a loud longer term break from her darlings. She never prays for silence inside her own never ending mind list real. She never cries in the bathroom on the phone to her mother over literally nothing. She never ever would think of complaining to her girlfriends (because her friends are lady friends) about her fill-in-the-blank. And most importantly, this mother would never…
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We had never taken a family vacation with all three kids before this summer. A vacation with just our family of five. Not to visit family or friends. Not for a wedding. Not for a baptism. Just away. Just us. And clearly now I know what we were missing. We spent almost five days at our place in Wisconsin and could have stayed a million years. My mom has outfitted it with all the books and games of our childhood, and even though we go almost weekly for a day trip, this was our first time simply immersing ourselves in its over 100 acres of beauty with all three kids. No agenda. No schedules. No obligations. Just us. We picked apples from an ancient apple tree and made a crisp. We hiked on the trails and waded in the creek. We scouted on the location of a future tree house//fort. RIGHT UP THERE. What a tree! The beach in front of the tree doesn’t look too shabby, either. Lots of rocks to splunk. We read so many books. So so so many and many more. Everyday had a cadence of reading, playing cards, playing outside, snacks, meals, naps, AA going for his marathon training run, and me sewing. Everyday had its fair share of screaming and fighting but with no agenda and a relaxed day, that was much less than I had anticipated. When you two oldest can play UNO together: sudden and constant entertainment. One morning it was chilly…
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