whole parenting family
Well it’s the dog days of summer. I have no idea what that means. But I do know that I look around and think wowweeee I’m blessed. Not only because I have this rowdy fun family. But also because our seemingly overwhelming days of nonstop whining and tantrums are paired with blissful afternoons playing at the park, in the pool, reading books, and rushing off exactly no where. Except to catch that baby who insists on trying to emulate his naughty brother. (I do find myself repeatedly exclaiming “do not encourage bad behavior” because the big kids cheer him on whenever he’s being ambitious, shall we say.) The kids are taking greater risks and presumably experiencing more joyous rewards? I was on the phone in the Library when I heard a strange grunting noise. I had no child in eyesight (probably a real classy mom move there, novice nell) but when I stepped into the Entrance Hall, I beheld a car seat that had previously been stationed in the Dining Room, a whole room away mind you, now parked in front of the mail table that centers itself in the Hall. With an occupant. And a chauffer. Let’s just say he was elated and I was chagrined. How she dragged him + the base + the carseat I have no clue. Real buff girl here. Best part of summer? We had all the cousins together for a special event. The kids mauled their littlest cousin. I mean, there were outright scuffles…
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My quickie update! Oh, I have so many wonderful posts in draft. All kinds of interesting (only to my mother) things! But as I’ve been down with a stomach flu (good thing I’m such a pro at having all-pregnancy long morning sickness so vomiting doesn’t really phase me::no, not pregnant this vomit-sesh) and had family in town so twirly whirly and not lots of typing. But did you hear??? GRACE had her BABY!! And speaking of me not being pregnant, but apparently needing to work out, this happened today that I shared on Facebook: While nursing today, my daughter wandered over to point out my “big belly that might be growing a new baby.” I let her poke it, prod it, sniff it and then told her no new baby right now but that mamas whose babies grow in their bellies sometimes have extra love left in there. That’s what I’m going to call my post-baby bump. Positive body image starts young. They’re watching us! Your responses were so beautiful. And the number of folks whom it resonated with! I really want to show my daughter a healthy love of my body, even when I’m out of shape. Especially when I’m out of shape. Stitch? Did someone say bonnet? Okay, tttttotal non-sequitor but it’s that kinda day. These are piling up on my work table and I cannot *squeeeeeal* wait to do a release of about a dozen to my subscriber list first, and then the commoners. 😉 Have you…
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Dear Mama, You managed to raise five children! We all felt we were the specialist in the world, for our ages. And we all felt we had your undivided attention, but only when we had the floor. Which may have been for about two secs before someone else jumped in. It’s my turn to have the floor and tell you all my unsolicited thoughts about you. In our childhood, you taught us to always mind our p’s and q’s (that’s politeness & quietness for the uninitiated). You taught us that we always had to share with our siblings, but warned them not to take too much. You taught us that if we felt awkward socially or uncomfortable around people who were old, differently abled, or from a different country, we should push past our insecurity and get outside ourselves to make sure we were extra polite and friendly. You taught us to never ever let a stranger talk to us or try to entice us to come to their white windowless van for “candy.” You taught us to be fiercely loyal to each other and always side with our sibling in public, or else . . . In our early adulthood, you loved baking chocolate chip cookies, fudge, and caramels and ensuring this diabetic coma in a box was delivered to us when we lived out of town. It made us real popular at school with our newly-gleaned friends. You loved leaving us lengthy voice messages that started with “Now, listen”…
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It’s been six amazing years together as a married couple. Six years ago we were all aflutter and said “I do’s” and danced with this band playing in our front yard until the stars wore out. We ate & laughed with over three hundred friends and I almost didn’t get a piece of my wedding cake but for 10pm quick slip to the kitchen. Friends & family who were there have died since, and new friends have been born. It was the most fun and thrilling day of my life. Hands down. But really. We had no clue what it would be like. Because no one does. We knew we wanted to experience life together. And we certainly have. I love him more deeply–by about a billion–since that day, but specifically more betterer for six simple reasons (and enjoy a few blurry pre-baby pics): 1) He encourages me to do completely frivolous things, like blog, because they make me happy. He will take photos of me for my blog, like, while holding the baby and juggling the toddler and pitching with the big boy. He will encourage me to invest money, time, energy, into this nebulous space that holds a hunk of my sanity and heart swirled around, this blog. He will listen to me wax and wain about it, and whine too. He’s my biggest cheerleader and happiest reader (he reads it for the photos, just like my mom does). He genuinely has never complained about the time I spend…
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If you aren’t into giveaways of books, skip to my last post on shouting at your kids. If you never shout at your kids, skip to my friend Abbey’s awesome story about being okay with quitting a field trip with her kids. Loved it. Two books to share about today. One is a compilation of essays by many of my friends who are excellent writers, the other is a unique children’s book that encourages exploration of feelings and verbalizing them through word art. The first book, Rosaries Aren’t Just for Teething, was compiled by my friend Michele, a lovely blogger & writer. We met at a conference earlier this year and was struck by how comfortable she was in her own skin, and how genuinely interested in reaching out to others she was. All at the same time. A beautiful combination. She brings together twenty authors whose essays are reflections on each mystery of the Rosary through the lenses of their experiences as mothers. Let me just say 180ish pages and I was one weepy lady. So much packed in joy & beauty & suffering. A must read for the woman interested in the life of Jesus’ mother. Just. Must. If you aren’t the winner, or you like paperback instead of e-books, head to amazon & get it. The second book, Happy, Too, by Victoria Marie Hamaty and illustrated by Kiara A. Sanchez, is one my kids can’t put down. Perhaps it is the last page, entitled “talk time, by your side” which…
Read MorePhoto credit: Emily Rumsey Photography If you had told me when I had my first that I would eventually nurse in public without a cover, I would have blushed. Deeply. I hated nursing SuperBoy in public. I rarely went in public with him when he was hungry, and given that I didn’t feed on demand, but rather tried to put him on a schedule, I could predict this hangry time pretty well. When I did have to nurse him in public, I’d drape a cover over him, me, us, and with lots of kicking limbs and wails from both of us, attempt to do it thoroughly. Then burp him. Then commence on the other side, all whilst wearing disposal nursing pads that I went through like new moms do articles online about how to nurse in public. But at home? No cover. My brother & dad had a shock to their systems. My brother would make eye contact only while using his palm flattened out, thumb down, palm facing me to block the site {and sight} of my actual nursing parts. My dad would hurry through the kitchen and ask my mom Errrr is she going to always do that in here? Even my older female relatives would gently talk about how when they nursed, they would go upstairs or in a different room from their own father or brothers or uncle, because, well, it was proper. My response was that my baby didn’t like to nurse with a cover and I had to feed…
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