Scene I:
It is before dawn, and the room is still. A thick drowsiness hangs in the air. There is the faint smell of slumber and a calming blue on the walls. You trip as you stumble through the room. There are a dozen pillows tucked into every corner. There are ten tiny blankets strewn on the floor.
Scene II:
It is after lunch, and the hallway is empty. The curtains have been drawn in each room upstairs, and the quiet buzz of fans calls you into slumber. Every toy is in its place, and a book of nursery rhymes awaits on the couch. It is peaceful. It smells clean and fresh and relieving, nourishing.
These are the scenes that repeat day in and day out. I hope I never forget them. The first seems so fleeting; it is just this period of early morning after feeding a newborn, when the bedroom is "undone" and no one has slept much through the night. The second is more regular, a picture of how I prepare the upstairs for naptime.
16 September 2008
11 September 2008
Insufficient Extremities
Some tasks are hard to do 1-handed. I've learned to type while nursing a baby, and to occasionally stir a pot. But this morning, Jimmy was screaming because Lucy woke up and insisted on trying out her new potty skills again...potty-training should not be combined with feeding, 1-handed or otherwise. Then, imagine you're nursing while your 2 toddlers are scarfing down syrup-drenched waffles. One dumps her milk out, and then they both try to bolt from the table with stickiness oozing everywhere.
Sigh.
I feel for poor Jimmy. He is forced to take breaks from eating often...in the sticky situations I encounter such as the one outlined above, or in violent situations such as when one sibling is biting or attacking another, or in potty fiascos, or...well, any number of daily, momentary crises.
Hopefully, this will not greatly affect his outlook on life.
Sigh.
I feel for poor Jimmy. He is forced to take breaks from eating often...in the sticky situations I encounter such as the one outlined above, or in violent situations such as when one sibling is biting or attacking another, or in potty fiascos, or...well, any number of daily, momentary crises.
Hopefully, this will not greatly affect his outlook on life.
08 September 2008
Life in Mc D-O-N-A-L-D-S World
Today marked a new and exciting phase in our eldest's life. Tommy started pre-school! I will post picture later of Tommy proudly sporting his Twins backpack, heading into school looking excited and ready to take on the world. I thought maybe his nerves would get the better of him, but this weekend, he told me, "Mom, Mrs. McDonald will be excited to see me tomorrow!"
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
Month 2: Gone in a Moment
Dear Jimmy,
Two months old today. You're still a peanut, and when people notice you snuggled in my arms or the carseat, they almost always guess you're a newborn. You're filling out nicely from your original, wiry state, but you're still barely ten pounds. A lightweight. A snuggle bug.
Daddy is holding you now while you whimper and moan. It's about 9:30 PM, right in the middle of your colicky hours. Most nights, you fuss from 8 to 11 PM, giving your father and me a run for our money. Outside of these hours, though, you're a wonderful and easy baby. You're starting to smile more and more, delighting your siblings who love to kiss you whenever you enter a room. Your intially-spastic hand and leg movements (hey, that's how we all begin, Jimster) are becoming more controlled. You follow toys with your eyes and love to listen to music. Sometimes I put your little chair on the counter underneath my mounted radio and let you take in the tunes. (A secondary goal of this is to keep you up high and safely away from Tom and the Goose.)
Your brother started preschool today, and I bet both you and Lucy will benefit from his new independence. I'm eager to spend more quiet time with you and to learn what your wide eyes are learning.
I love you, my Jimmy!
Love, Mama
Two months old today. You're still a peanut, and when people notice you snuggled in my arms or the carseat, they almost always guess you're a newborn. You're filling out nicely from your original, wiry state, but you're still barely ten pounds. A lightweight. A snuggle bug.
Daddy is holding you now while you whimper and moan. It's about 9:30 PM, right in the middle of your colicky hours. Most nights, you fuss from 8 to 11 PM, giving your father and me a run for our money. Outside of these hours, though, you're a wonderful and easy baby. You're starting to smile more and more, delighting your siblings who love to kiss you whenever you enter a room. Your intially-spastic hand and leg movements (hey, that's how we all begin, Jimster) are becoming more controlled. You follow toys with your eyes and love to listen to music. Sometimes I put your little chair on the counter underneath my mounted radio and let you take in the tunes. (A secondary goal of this is to keep you up high and safely away from Tom and the Goose.)
Your brother started preschool today, and I bet both you and Lucy will benefit from his new independence. I'm eager to spend more quiet time with you and to learn what your wide eyes are learning.
I love you, my Jimmy!
Love, Mama
05 September 2008
4 Years of Wedded Bliss
...and more to come! Yesterday, John and I celebrated our 4th anniversary. It's hard to believe how quickly these years have flown by; it seems like yesterday that John took me by the hand and we promised to make this life together. I can still see the youth and promise in his eyes.
After sneaking a peek through the locked doors of our 1920s-era reception site, The Commodore, John and I had a fabulous dinner at W.A. Frost in Saint Paul. It was an especially meaningful location because we hadn't been there since our wedding day, when we stopped by to sip champagne on their gorgeous patio between our ceremony and reception. Last night, the weather was a bit cool for an entire dinner on the patio, so we moved inside and reminisced about that day and the many that have followed. John proposed an amusing conversation of our marriage highlights and lowlights---by year. We laughed and inebriated ourselves, touching back to this topic throughout mixed drinks, champagne, and Spanish red.
The food and company were both exquisite. We started with a cheese plate, and did learn that unpasteurized goat cheese varies from our pasteurized love. (I believe we compared it to stinky sweat socks.) Next, we each had a salad and John's was a surprising, delicious blend of watermelon and (pasteurized) goat cheese with a balsamic garlic vinaigrette and pistachios. I will have to try to recreate that one. We shared the filet as an entree, and it was heaven-sent. I can still taste the light, mascarpone polenta in my mind this morning. For dessert, there was a trio to try---our favorites were a rhubarb strawberry cobbler and a crunchy, rich creme brulee. One of these days I'll take out a blowtorch and give that a go, too.
Though our house is 99% chaos right now, I am thankful each day to have John as a husband. It is not every man who takes his family so seriously, who loves his wife with tender devotion, who does the laundry and pitches in every way he can. Who wrestles with his children and prays with them every night. I can't wait to see what the next four---and forty---years have to offer.
After sneaking a peek through the locked doors of our 1920s-era reception site, The Commodore, John and I had a fabulous dinner at W.A. Frost in Saint Paul. It was an especially meaningful location because we hadn't been there since our wedding day, when we stopped by to sip champagne on their gorgeous patio between our ceremony and reception. Last night, the weather was a bit cool for an entire dinner on the patio, so we moved inside and reminisced about that day and the many that have followed. John proposed an amusing conversation of our marriage highlights and lowlights---by year. We laughed and inebriated ourselves, touching back to this topic throughout mixed drinks, champagne, and Spanish red.
The food and company were both exquisite. We started with a cheese plate, and did learn that unpasteurized goat cheese varies from our pasteurized love. (I believe we compared it to stinky sweat socks.) Next, we each had a salad and John's was a surprising, delicious blend of watermelon and (pasteurized) goat cheese with a balsamic garlic vinaigrette and pistachios. I will have to try to recreate that one. We shared the filet as an entree, and it was heaven-sent. I can still taste the light, mascarpone polenta in my mind this morning. For dessert, there was a trio to try---our favorites were a rhubarb strawberry cobbler and a crunchy, rich creme brulee. One of these days I'll take out a blowtorch and give that a go, too.
Though our house is 99% chaos right now, I am thankful each day to have John as a husband. It is not every man who takes his family so seriously, who loves his wife with tender devotion, who does the laundry and pitches in every way he can. Who wrestles with his children and prays with them every night. I can't wait to see what the next four---and forty---years have to offer.
04 September 2008
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