The days slip by.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Jenny often wants to wear my diamond ring. When I refuse she gets a small hair elastic and wears it on her finger and calls it her wedding ring.
|Jenny likes to pick out her own outfits|
James likes to feel the skin at the edge of clothing. He often fingers my arm just underneath my cuff or the skin at my neckline as we cuddle during his lullaby. He also does it to himself whenever I lay him down for bed or a diaper change.
|Delicious. I could just eat this kid.|
|Jenny's still life photography|
James shrieks. Loudly. All the time. Jenny shrieks back. Then they scream at each other at precisely the same pitch and with the same timbre with a blend only siblings can create. At times I can't tell them apart.
|"Look Mommy! We're in a bathtub!"|
Jenny enjoys drinking straight lemon juice. She also likes to taste salt and pepper. She shakes it into her palm and then licks it. Over and over until I stop her. She also likes to eat butter. She dips her finger in it, just like I did as a child. She'd eat spoonfuls of it if I'd let her.
|Jenny tried to apply mascara|
James crawls down the stairs halfway, then pauses, then comes back up. Then back down. Then back up. Then he swings the baby gate back and forth. Shrieking in delight and pride all the while.
|Playing together instead of screaming at each other. A rare and delightful thing.|
Jenny cries out every night for me. Her scared little voice sobbing in the darkness for her mama. I go in. We snuggle. I tell her I love her. She goes back to sleep.
|Bear Lake 2010|
James giggles when I kiss him on the chest. He also likes it on the neck. Kissing him on the belly doesn't do much for him. He also likes it when I nibble his toes.
|Still hanging on. No walking yet.|
|Bear Lake 2010|
|Can you resist that smile? I didn't think so.|
|Super Rainbow Girl|
Jenny likes to put on my stilettos and sling-backs and walk around, heels clacking loudly on the tile. Often she's wearing nothing else.
|I remember doing this as a kid. Only the shoes of my choice were my mother's cream colored open toed pumps.|
Neither of my children will let me shower or bathe alone. If they hear water running, they find me and scream until they are in the water with me.
|The most fun they ever have together.|
Both of them like to mow the lawn with Daddy. At the same time.
|A favorite Saturday morning activity|
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
It's official. I'm a total failure.
Today was my first-born child's first day of school. And not just the first day of the year. The first day of school in her whole life. In her entire 3.5 years of living she has never been to school until now. And can you believe it? I didn't take a picture of her in all her first-day glory before dropping her off.
No picture for the blog, for her scrapbook, for her memories. I failed her.
A successful mother would have planned ahead. A dedicated mother would have remembered last night that a certain little girl had smudged the lens of the camera with her grubby little fingertips and would have had the forethought to do a load of laundry so a clean microfiber cloth would have been handy to clean said lens.
A competent mother would have imbued such a sense of excitement in her daughter about her first day of school that the daughter would not have had an emotional breakdown right as it was time to get in the car, thus making the mother late.
A proper mother would have found some way to more effectively stem the tide of tears that ensued after explaining that it was against the rules to take any toys to preschool as she heartlessly removed them from the Hello Kitty backpack.
A decent mother would have made sure to capture the moment of departure appropriately, as is its due as a rite of passage, and immortalized it for all time on a pink and green paisley matted scrapbook page.
Alas, one more thing to add to my list of personal failings.
On the up side, I DID make the time and had the patience to paint my daughter's fingernails and toenails the colors of her choice while dressing her.
I DID remember the teacher's instructions to put the daughter's bathing suit under her clothes and pack a towel.
I DID remember to pay tuition on the first class of the month, thus qualifying for the $5 early-pay discount.
I DID remember to put the baby in the car before we left, rather than leaving him alone in his crib for the 20 minutes it would take me to return.
I even succeeded in sufficiently distracting my alternately writhing/screaming and wiggling/giggling daughter during the drive over with talk about farm animals so that her socks and shoes remained on her feet until arrival.
Maybe I can do this after all.
Does a picture after-the-fact still count? Even if it's blurry with finger smudges?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
When Brent and I were dating, I told him that I was anti-social, and would infinitely prefer staying home with a book to going out to any social event, especially LDS ward parties.
He agreed with me wholeheartedly. He said that he too preferred to stay home and hated socializing and having to "be on" when he was tired after a long week working away from home. (Back then, he traveled for work something like 48 weeks out of the year. Yes. Insane. Glad he doesn't have that job any more.) He said he loved to read and hated to party.
Ah, that response was music to my ears. I thought that truly I had found my soulmate. Someone who would want to be home with me and wouldn't want to leave me to hang out with the guys.
You know what?
He didn't mean to. He thought he was speaking the truth. When I said "any social event" and he said "me too" what he really meant was "singles ward events". And really, can you blame him? Anyone who has been a member of a LDS singles ward for more than a couple of years can understand that one. Ugh.
As it turns out my husband is quite the social butterfly. Not only does he like to attend all ward parties, block parties, charity events, holiday activities, and other engagements that we're invited to, but he actually prefers to host parties.
Usually about once a month Brent asks me if I'd like to have so-and-so and so-and-so to dinner. He's not really asking. He knows what my answer will be. He's just telling me. So I smile and put on my happy face and start thinking about all the cleaning that has to be done before we have 30 people over for dinner. Again. Didn't we just do that?
So I grumble to myself and get a migraine at the thought of entertaining that many people and having them in my house, my sanctuary, my safe and private space. I clean and hurt my back and gag on the smell of smoking and carcinogenic flesh that permeates my house.
And then the guests arrive.
And you know what?
I always have a good time. And I'm always glad that Brent made me do it.
I would NEVER invite people over (unless my children share a bloodline with you). It just doesn't occur to me.
And so I'm glad. I'm glad I have a husband that led me astray during our courtship. Because of his dinner parties, I meet and converse with people who are genuinely wonderful. Because of his friendliness, I have friends.
And who doesn't need more friends?
So thank you, Mr. Jensen, for once again nudging me out of my comfort zone. You knew I'd enjoy it. And I did.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I haven't been writing much. I suppose because most days I feel like I'm drowning and don't have anything to write that people would want to read.
My life is filled with minutiae and drudgery.
Clean the nasty bathrooms.
Try unsuccessfully to feed my children.
Pick my children's food off the floor.
Do the dishes.
Do the laundry.
Clean the crud off the counter.
Reorganize my kitchen cupboards after the last time my husband was in there.
Endure tantrums I am unable to diffuse.
Hold one child while the other screams.
Hold the other child while the first one screams.
Hold them simultaneously while they both scream.
Fail to make dinner because I once again didn't make it to the grocery store because shopping with two tiny kids is impossible and frustrating.
Get a migraine.
Put my kids in front of Blue's Clues so I can have 30 minutes of peace.
Try not to scream.
Try not to yell.
Try not to cry.
What gives me hope is knowing that this is the hardest time in my life and that it won't last forever. When it is over and my children are grown I will miss it and long for these years back.
I recently came across a quote by the author Anna Quindlen, and I tell you, this is going to be my personal mission statement.
The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Treasure the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
I desperately want to be a fun and nurturing mother. I want to enjoy my children. I want to look back on every day with satisfaction that I did my best. I know I'll never be perfect, but I want to simply love my life.
And I do. I already do.
I am immensely happy with my life. I'm just not happy with myself.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Since our move we can see a large LDS temple quite well on our drive home. Every time it looms above us Jenny shouts "Look! A TEMPLE!"
She gets very excited and always wants to drive past it and tells me all about Angel Moroni atop the steeple.
Today I consented to drive past it, and as we pulled into the parking lot she said to me "Once I was a big mommy in a big dress and I got married in that big beautiful temple. Then I grew down to become a little girl."
I love my kid.
Monday, May 17, 2010
I named my new home Ingleside. Those of you who immediately understand why are of the race of Joseph. If you understood the phrase "race of Joseph" you are hereby invited to be my best friend forever.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
I write as I lay in bed, propped up on insufficient pillows. I lay in the very center of the bed in a vain attempt to even out the lump that has been created between the two valleys my and my husband's bodies have made in the mattress.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The night before Mother's Day I had a visit with my sister during which I expressed the tumult I have been feeling lately regarding parenting two little kids.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Today I received my first ever Mother's Day gift made by a child of mine.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
"Mommy I need a Big Girl Spoon."
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Is it a motherly trait or just a female one to feel an inordinate amount of guilt? Perhaps it runs throughout the fairer sex, but is intensified by motherhood. All I know is I feel a lot of guilt a lot of the time and my husband feels relatively none.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I woke this morning to the sound of Jenny's voice coming through the monitor on my nightstand.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I've been in the middle of a project.
Or so I am assured by our government. But, remembering how the Navy lost a laptop with access to a database that contained all my husband's information a few years ago, and how they contacted us to assure us they were working on recovering the information but to prepare us for the possibility that someone may have obtained that information to potentially pull some fraud and/or otherwise illegal shenanigans, I don't know how much I trust that.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
My dear sister Jessica recently wrote about imaginative play. Here is my favourite line of her post.
"A book taught my children about Vesuvius and Pompeii and now they can excavate my back yard, unearthing the magic of knowledge wedded to imagination."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
It's my birthday today.
your cooking salmon,
your book recommendations,
your and Jenny's voicemails,
your being so great to my brother and family,
your appreciation for pirates,
your blog posts,
your Christmas bread,
your southern drawl,
your prof. Trelawney,
your license plate frame,
your Jane Austen-ness
your political musings,
your Bubba Clause,
your preference for opaque fruit snacks,
your overall wonderfulness.
Sometimes things just feel right.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
It's no secret that I've never loved my house. It has some flow and functionality problems that just cannot be fixed with a remodel. I have thought and rethought and mentally configured and reconfigured my floorplan. I just can't solve my major complaints with it without creating others.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
It's been just over seven months since Squeak was born and I think I've finally hit my stride.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Why are people inconsiderate, inflexible, and unprofessional? Don't they want my money?
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
So I have bronchitis due to a bacterial infection.