Fiesta!

Well.

I have entered the world of crazy.

But I think we all knew that would happen.

Earlier this week my rose colored glasses were broken.

Luckily for me, the world still holds beauty without them.

...

This weekend I took our little girl to a birthday party.

Which turned out to actually be a giant family reunion of a huge Mexican clan.

I sat the whole time, thankful for Joey and his cute face as a buffer and slightly alarmed to be the only white person in a room full of extremely friendly, but difficult to understand, grandmas and aunts and overly-friendly uncles.

I did get a spontaneous hug from what might have been the oldest looking woman I have ever encountered. She didn't seem to mind in the slightest that I had never met her before. I was standing, so I should be hugged.

The awkwardness I endured for two and a half hours was all worth it to hear that I was part of our five-year old's very first time ever going to a friend's house. As we drove to the party her legs bounced and her ponytail whipped as she tried to look out of all of the van windows at the same time.

She very shyly admitted that she had never been to a friend's house before.

When we arrived she hid behind my legs, even when her friend ran to greet her. Throughout the party she would come find me and ask if she could participate in different activities. By the end of our time her cheeks were pink and her eyes were sparkling.

I was exhausted from smiling and making halting conversation, but she was full and that made me glad.

I am thankful to have had that moment of satisfaction, because the weekend went down-hill from there.

Without all the shocking details (truly, shocking, I mean ... like worthy of an episode of some crime drama), I will sum up the last three days by saying that we have had two boys suspended from school, found drugs in our back yard, called the police three times in as many days, had two children removed from our home by the police and heard more profanity than I have ever heard strung together in my life.

The first night of chaos, I felt battered. I was confused and obsessed with all the things I did wrong that only made things worse. The second day of chaos I thought, I've seen it all before (how quickly I am learning) and the third day, today, I just feel sad.

It is sad to see so much brokenness.

I have begun to learn to pray in new, desperate ways and to invite God into my home at every moment.

I am grateful tonight for my mom and dad. I am thankful for support from friends old and new, and I am amazed that God's word is so alive and so powerful for today.

I was going to end by commending all of the moms and dads I know and emphasizing what an important job it is to parent, even imperfectly - but I realized that inside of me a soapbox is growing in huge-monstrous proportions and standing on a soapbox after three days of no sleep and heightened emotional levels is not wise.

So instead, I will end by saying that Jack and Joey are doing well. Joey is the star of the house and everybody wants to be the one to sit next to him in the van and help carry him into church.

Jack is finding his place in the house slowly but surely. Most nights I wake up and find he has snuck into my bed at some point in the night. When I discover him I relish the warmth of his wiggly little self next to me and kiss his buzz-cut-head. Then I usually carry him back to bed so I can sleep.

A few times I have actually just gone to sleep in his bed to save the effort of moving him from his comfortable and safe place.

We all are making our adjustments, but we are intact. We have met new friends, Andy and I have laughed and smiled and worked together and I haven't even made him listen to me cry (yet). We are tired and my brain is so full that new bits of information are temporarily being turned away - a problem - yes, but nothing a handy pen and paper can't take care of! Through it all, we are meeting God and meeting each other.

The last days have not been easy, but they have a purpose, and I am content in that.

And how could I not be finding the beauty in my days with these blokes about?

Jack, if when you are older you wonder why there are three pictures of Joey and only one of you - it is because you are miserable to take a picture of. You are too fast and usually are stuffing food in your face. And when you aren't eating, it is probably because you are coloring.

On your face.

In ink that is very hard to wash off.

But I adore you still my funny, sweet, clever and artsy boy!

Heat Wave

Guys! Last night temperatures reached the highest... ever!... in Everett history.

Ugh.

I was NOT created for this kind of weather. Jack has a heat rash and I just discovered one under my bra strap this evening. I feel like I do nothing but sweat.

I don't feel like cooking, or even eating, but when I don't eat, I get queasy, so I have to eat. Everything is making me grumpy because I can't cool down and it is too hot to sleep. Tired, sweaty, queasy... can you just imagine?

Why in the world is Western Washington so HOT?! Please fall, come soon.

In other news, Jack threw my phone in the toilet today.

OOOooooHHhhh! I was SOOOO mad!

The phone was totally wrecked. I had to make an emergency trip to Verizon, which turned into a big ordeal. First, I got there at 9:20, started to unload and then heard someone call out, "Miss?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming in here?"

"Yeah."

"We don't open until 10:00."

Under my breath, "grumble, grumble. Fine!"

We loaded back up, went to a random store to buy random things and stay in the air conditioning.

Just after 10:00 we were back in Verizon. I hate shopping for electronics in the first place. I also dislike having to adjust to a new phone. I also don't like going to all-grown-up places with Jack because, well, he's not a grown up. We made it through though and I got a phone, only to find, after I loaded up the babe and stroller, that they had set up the new phone with Andy's number, not mine.

GRRRHHAA!

Unload again, back to the store.

"Please fix this."

Finally we left and Jack snoozed on the way home. He slept for a little while, while I played with my new phone.

The most awful thing was, my previous phone was so destroyed that none of the contacts were salvageable. And thanks to the wonderful cell technology the only two numbers I've bothered to memorize are Andy's and my parents home number.

So, if you want me to have your number, you'll need to send it to me, because otherwise your info is lost.

Sorry.

Can you tell I'm hot and whiny?

Touched

In the morning light I discovered that while painting my canvases I also panted a good portion of my carpet. Too bad I didn't notice it last night when it would have been much easier to clean.

...

This morning I updated my Facebook status to: "... needs a day off. Unfortunately it doesn't look like that will happen for another 20 years."

I was overwhelmed and weighed down by the feelings of foreverness that come along with wee babes. From my tired eyes, I don't see any way to take a break. The house is always here, the baby is always here, things always need tending.

But not five minutes after I posted this there was a knock on my back door. I didn't hear it at first, and then I heard Dane calling out his greeting. I went to the door and there was my brother-in-law with Dane and he said, "I saw your facebook status, do you need any help?"

Oh my! I almost cried.

He came in, scooped up Jack and immediately calmed down the chaos of my house. He offered to take Jack for a few hours so I could take a break or clean with out being followed by mess-makers. I would have taken him up on it it If I hadn't already had a friend coming to pick me and Jack and our third body up.

While I didn't really get a break, my spirit was so lightened by his offer that the urgency of a day off doesn't seem quite so intense.

I am so, so thankful for my friends who come to my rescue every time I need it.

I Need A Shower

I fell off my bike today.

I don't really like biking that much.

I also rode six miles, always far, far behind the gals I was riding with. 

I kept feeling like such a looser. 

"How can I be so, ridiculously slow?"

When I reached our meet-up point, a good ten minutes (at least that is how it felt, they swore it was only two) behind them I discovered that both my tires were low on air. 

Hm.

That might have had something to do with it. 

I feel miserable. My elbow hurts and my pride is bruised. 

Uggg.

What Sleep-Deprivation Will Do To You

Today is one of those days.

The ones you hope you don't have often.

The ones that you don't want to look at yourself in the mirror because you know you will look like you have just been dragged, old western style, behind a horse through a dusty desert. 

I don't know why it is that kind of day.

My hair is flopping all over the place. My eyelids are droopy from insufficient sleep (ding! I think we found a reason!).

My teeth are gritted and my jaw is set against the grating sound of whining babies that refuse to be consoled.

My tee-shirt is baggy from being pulled on too many times and my pants have both banana slime and nose drippings ground into them.

In addition to the exterior mess, my mind is a little ugly as well.  I'm irritated, stewing over insults, imagined or intended, I can not tell. I am praying that my spirit triumphs and I behave in a godly fashion, but my energy is almost spent and I want to lay down on the floor, kicking and screaming. 

My usual state of serene acceptance (at least I like to think that is my usual state, please do not correct me if I am delusional) has been marred by a day of wanting more, more, more.  I need bigger, I need better, I need anything that isn't what I already have.

I can deal with the mess of my appearance, but I truly despise when my mind and emotions run away with me. I like to pretend like I'm always kind and always self-controlled and always generous. But the sad, sad reality is that I am not. I am flawed. I am a yucky person some times. Greedy and discontent. 

Luckily, there are only 24 hours in a day. Just a few more left and I can move past this flop of a Friday and get onto a less stinky Saturday.  (If you are translating this post literally, that last sentence means, "I really just want to kick someone and then go to bed, but I have to wrap things up with a nice, pretty, it-is-all-okay bow.")

In the perfectly timed order of the universe, I must go attend to both my stinky mood and Jack's reeking pants. 

Don't you just love it when things are perfectly timed?

And don't you  just wish there was a font called "sarcasm" that you could use to imply that tone of voice so people will always know what you intend to sound like when you type things?

Put Another Notch In My Lipstick Case

Well, my baby is walking hither and yon. Just four days before the big oh-one, and I have a toddler.  

We finally installed baby-proofing latches on our cupboards.  I say we, but you all know that I mean Andy, my handy man.  I am so, so grateful for that.  

Jack really loves garbage cans.  The bathroom one is right at his level and you can often find my with my foot on top of the lid, curling my hair and keeping him from pulling out yucky items from the trash receptacle.  

He also loves the kitchen garbage. 

Yesterday was not really a very good day.

Can I just confess that I've been a wee bit grumpy-overwhelmed-feeling like a failure-frustrated-and several other kinds of yucky this week?

I'm getting a hair cut tonight, so maybe that will help.  

But anyway, yesterday.

I got a call on Tuesday from a friend.  She said that a woman at our church, a mother of SEVEN, was in the hospital with kidney stones.  Yuck!  She asked if I could make some dinner and bring it over.

I said sure and immediately tried to think of what I could make, on a budget, to feed such a big family!  I was not very creative, but I figured it was okay. Food is food, and it is so much nicer when someone makes it for you, even if it isn't fancy.

So I went with the standard pasta dishes.  I got two big disposable foil pans and made one of white-sauce and meatballs, and one of a chicken parmesan.  Throw in a couple of bags of salad, a loaf of garlic bread, and I thought it was looking under control.  I put everything in a big box and, feeling virtuous, headed down the stairs to load it in the car.

People.

I was walking the box down the stairs and wouldn't you know, the bottom fell right out of the box.  Guess what else fell out of the box.  Everything.

EVERYTHING.

Pasta, salads, bread, and the sparkling cider that I threw in for mum and dad.  

Okay, so everything scattered on the stairs.  That was bad.  Add a crying child shaking the baby gate while I survey the damage.  Then add me stepping over the child to get new bags and paper towels.  Then add the crying child, giving up on crying and crawling over the pre-baby-proofed garbage, opening the cupboard and pulling out remnants of lunch and breakfast and who knows what. 

It was one of those slow motion moments.  A cherry on top of a yucky sunday.  I moment that you both laugh and cry because it is so ridiculous and so frustrating.  The proverbial straw.

But it didn't break my back.  

Because you know what, none of the pasta escaped the tins.  The lids broke and the pans got a little mangled and a teeny bit of red sauce splashed over the edge.  But all the food was still in tact.  And the cider bottle didn't burst!  And garbage on the floor is just garbage on the floor. 

So I sucked up the tears and put everything back in the best presentation that I could and made the trek to drop of the meal.

I apologized for the mangled tins, but you know, they didn't even mind.  All was well.

I still cried on the way home, because you know, sometimes you just need to cry.  But I made it and I helped someone else, and my cabinets are proofed and now it is just a story to tell and a lesson learned.

I really don't care for weeks when I feel so frazzled and worn, but I'm learning that they come and go.  I made it through this one.  I'll make it through others.  And on the horizon is a trip to a sunny destination, free babysitting,  roller coaster riding and maybe even a massage. 

Ah.

Excuse me while I close my eyes for a moment and dream... sigh.

Gym Fail

I just got back home from my most lame gym visit ever.

Last night I coordinated with a friend and we both agreed to meet at the gym this morning. Usually I forego Fridays because I have my neighbor's baby who is younger than Jack.  Getting two non-walkers out of the house at the same time is just a whole lot of work.

Side note:

How do mums of two kids do it?

I get it when they are like three

and up, but what about

those moms who have their

babies two years apart?

Sigh.

I guess I will just have to wait and see

how its done when my time comes.

And for extreme clarification,

this side-note has not been an announcement.

When I posted this mystery surrounding 

Baby Broccoli,

a close friend of mine sent me an excited text

asking if my surprise was that

I was going to tell Andy I was pregnant.

So now, I feel paranoid about any comments

that could potentially be interpreted as

"I'm pregnant!"

I'm not. 

But I decided that even if it was a whole lot of work, I would feel so glad that I got there and snuck in a run.  I wish I could say it was an extra run for the week, but alas, it is not so, this week was lots of...well... lots of not going to the gym, that's for sure!

So I fed and packed up both babes and made it successfully to the car.  I was feeling quite smug and optimistic about the day. I was running on time, which is pretty much a miracle, and I remembered everything.  

The drama started when I arrived at the child watch center at the gym.  Mind you, this will not sound in the least bit troublesome to you, especially if you don't have kids, but for some reason, the combination of all the following just blackened my mood.

I'm still trying to rub away the scowl that has settled on my eyebrows from it.

First: There were too many babies (you know that whole ratio thing) and I had to wait 15 minutes to drop one baby off.

Second: I got a little hand slap (figuratively people... and kindly... but it was still embarrassing) for bringing in a baby who was not a member.  I can have up to five kids on my membership so I assumed it would be okay, only it wasn't.  They still let the extra baby in, and still smiled at me, but I felt so stupid.

Third: There were no treadmills open when I finally dropped off both wee ones.

Fourth: I don't really like ellipticals

Fifth: I got on one anyway and thought I would just stay busy until a treadmill opened up. One did just a few minutes later and I jumped at it.  But before I even got situated another woman came up and said she had been waiting for it (okay, my gym just got fancy new equipment and the last few times I've been the sign-up sheets have been a mystery, so I just assumed they were still not in order and it was first come first serve.  They aren't.).  Hand slap #2.

Sixth:  I took the walk of shame back to my elliptical.  As I was getting situated my ipod some how flew away from me and my machine and I had to take a second walk of shame to retrieve it from the middle of the floor.  Boy do I  know how to cause a scene!

Seventh: Two treadmills opened up about 15 minutes later and I waited a few minutes to see if they would be claimed.  I got off my machine and SIGNED UP and then hopped on.  About half a mile into my run I realized that in my rush I forgot to wipe down my other machine.  Rude.  I felt like everyone was just watching me and scorning me for my bad gym manners.  

Eighth:  I don't really like the word eighth.  It looks weird and I feel like I have a lisp when I try and say it.

Ninth: In the weights circuit I got stuck behind a very, very smelly man.  Perhaps it was my punishment for my bad manners.

Tenth: I quit early.  I wasn't in the mood.  So I picked up my boys and headed to Starbucks for some caffeine and then home for some lunch.

That is the end of my pathetic attempt at a Friday workout.  I don't think I'll bother next week.  

But here is the thing. 

Why did it faze me so much?  Why did it make my outlook so bleak?

I don't want to be that controlled by external happenings.  But some days I just am.  

Did I not get enough sleep?  Did I get my caffeine too late in the day?  Was I mentally weakened by the revolt being staged by my face that has resulted in an unattractive complexion? 

Who knows.

What I do know is that "This is the day the Lord has made."  Regardless of hand-slaps  or embarrassment or "waking up on the wrong side of the bed," I need to learn to rejoice.

I firmly believe that Jesus wants me to live joyfully.  Joy is fruit in my life that grows when I am in community with my God.  

Today, weeds of frustration and irritability started to take root around my precious joy.  I want to be proactive to rip them out before they affect the growth of the fruit that I crave.  

So I put on my gardening gloves and start pulling.  All the way down to the roots.  As I pull, I remember that this day is just as important to God's creative plan as yesterday, and as tomorrow.  I want to live it the way He intends.  I have no way of knowing what work He is doing in me as I choose to sacrifice the weeds and nourish the fruit. 

This is the day the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it. 

What They Don't Tell You...

Motherhood is an INCREDIBLE, life-changing experience.  One that moves you irrevocably from your old life.  The change is good, but as with any change, there is an adjustment period.  

The thing about a baby though is that you are always adjusting.  The baby grows, so you do to. The adjustment period never ends.

Let me give you a glimpse into the nitty-gritty, real-life world of Emily and Jack.

Let's start with the fact that as I type, Jack has crawled under his high chair and discovered a spoon dropped from a previous meal (and probably parts of that previous meal).  He is chewing eagerly on the spoon while taking momentary breaks to "push."  

Which means that in a very few short minutes a special smell will waft toward my nose and I will be called away from this note to change a diaper.

What they don't tell you before you become a mom is that you will actually think his pushing face is cute.  You'll laugh, you'll tell people about it, you'll change another diaper like it is no big deal, and tomorrow you will do the same exact thing.

Also, no matter what anyone says,

Pampers really are the best diapers.

There is a reason they are twice as expensive.

I hate it when you really do have to pay more for

better quality.

Pampers, I love you.

But I can't afford you.

What is a mother to do?

Moving on.

After about 8 months of perpetual regurgitation I think that Jack has finally outgrown that stage.  He was a champion of spit-up and although I swore it wouldn't happen, I fell into a routine of sweatpants and tee shirts at home.  The disappointment of getting dressed, only to be doused with white slime was too much.  

But we are past that now.

Or so I thought.

Last night we went on the a family outing (yay for family outings!).  I had just that very day purchased a lovely, v-neck sweater.  Soft and gray. Unsullied by the early baby stage.  

I cannot express in words how delightful it felt to put on something new and fresh.  I felt revived, I felt pretty, I felt like a woman.

An hour into our activity it was covered with baby-gross.  Not just a little dribble of formula.  But real, genuine vomit.  Complete with lingering sick-smell.  I wanted to cry.  But I didn't.

What they don't tell you about motherhood is that clothes are just clothes.  Things will get wrecked.  You will wear sweatpants to avoid the heartache. But you learn to smile and remember that you have a happy baby who loves you with our without bile adornment and you have a husband who will still tell you, "you look stunning" and hug you even if you don't smell nice.  

And finally, in this addition of "What They Don't Tell You..."

I was sick this week.  Really yucky sick.  Being sick with a baby to look out for is about the most miserable thing that I have ever experienced.  EVER.

-WARNING: disturbing, but real-life details to follow-

At one point I was sitting on the toilet, with the garbage can on my lap.  Losing it from both ends... and there was my chipper baby, holding onto my knee.  I could do nothing to usher him out.  I could do nothing period.  

Well, I did do something.  I had Andy call his mom.  She swooped into the rescue and relieved me for the day.  

What they don't tell you about being a mom is that you'll admit many times that you can't do it alone.  Your pride will be put in its place.  You will be given endless opportunities to say, "I need help."  You will learn to not only accept, but seek out help, or you will crumble.  

The list of people who have helped me is long.  I am grateful for each simple act of kindness.  

What they might have told you about being a mom, but you poo-pooed or simply forgot, is that it is a hard job.  It feels impossible some days.  But in each impossible situation you can choose which attitude you will adopt.  You can cry (and I do).  You can get angry (and I do).  Or, hopefully, you can thrive.  You can let your character be developed right along with each of your baby's new skills.  

To all of you moms.  KUDOS!  You are doing a lovely job.

To all of you pre-moms.  Well, just wait.  Enjoy what you have now, because you can never, NEVER go back.  Most likely though, you won't want to.

Thanksgiving Highlights

What?

Your Thanksgiving didn't include 55 people, a power outage, a round-robin of crying babies, sleeping on a love seat, a gorilla costume and a teeny-tiny chihuahua?

I thought that was totally normal!

My mom's side of the family has always been big, but with my cousins getting married and having babies, the number just keeps growing!  

This year, to accommodate the whole crew we rented an old army barrack on the Washington Peninsula. We met there on Thursday, each family bringing a dish for the holiday meal.  We reserved the space through Sunday morning, so we all planned to spend several nights there.  

My extended family is full of wonderful cooks and funny people.  So we had good food, great conversation and a healthy share of competition in everything from card games to trivia to ping pong.

Several unexpected events did occur though.  After everyone had served up their dessert the power inexplicably went out.  One moment it was bright and cheery and warm, the next moment it was pitch, PITCH dark.  All the exits had emergency lights, so we huddled in groups around the doors or around those clever individuals who thought to bring flashlights and head lamps.  

The outage actually lent a festive, adventurous feel to the weekend, that is until about 11:00, when we all realized we hadn't brought enough blankets to keep us warm.  It was FREEZING! I packed way too few coverings and Andy and I spent the first night tightly huddled on a very squeaky twin bed. (I actually was very  happy about this because I LOVE cuddling to sleep, but Andy is of the variety that prefers to have his own space in bed.)    

Well, we started the night in the same bed anyway.  The other interesting dynamic of the late nights was the fact that there were... one, two, three four, (I'm listing names in my head)... 10 young kids at the fort.  Seven of those were sleeping in one wing.  And, oh yeah, there were no doors to our rooms.  So every little peep echoed down the hall for each mother, father and child to hear.  

That was hard for some of the babes... mostly mine.

How embarrassing.

And tiring.

Usually Jack will wake up a few times, and kind of talk or cry himself back to sleep.  But when I knew that every other kid might wake up any second to Jack's babbles, I spent the whole night on edge.  Once Jack was awake, he only would go back to sleep if I bounced him and would only stay asleep... in my arms.  Ugh.

The first night Andy took him downstairs and they slept together on a couch.  I made a bed on a love seat (it looked a lot longer in the dark) and later brought my nephew Dane to sleep with me as he was also having trouble sleeping in a new, noisy place.  

Have you ever slept crunched up on a love seat with a baby?  You don't really do much sleeping.  Babies are wiggly.  And sweaty.  And they have a tendency to head-butt you in their sleep. That really hurts.

Several moms decided it wasn't worth it to stay another night, but the Aichele's stuck it out.  

I spent another night on the couch with Jack.  

Actually, I took the first shift and Andy took over at about 5:30 in the morning. 

We left that afternoon.

Despite the hiccups and sleepless nights, it was a joyful holiday.  My extended family is kind and gracious and ready to enjoy every event.  They welcomed my mother-in-law (Andy's real mom who drove up from Texas with her chihuahua-service dog) warmly and eagerly accepted Jack when my arms were tired of holding him.

One of the most enjoyable activities for me was making a gingerbread house with Ellery.  In the weeks leading up to our trip, every time I'd seen Ellery she asked me if we were going to make a gingerbread house that day.  Each time she was been crushed when I said no.

I had resolved that we would not try that activity again this year since last year it was kind of a disaster.  The short version is that Ellery kept saying, "This isn't working!" and I, after calling my mom to come rescue me, dissolved into a sort of hysterical combination of tears and laughter.  Later that day when my mom asked Ellery how it went she said, "Emily laughed and laughed and cried and cried."  It was true.

But my sweet sis was persistent (and apparently oblivious to the failure of last year) and I wanted to redeem myself. My mom packed a kit and on Friday afternoon we created a masterpiece.  It was delightful.  I have conquered the gingerbread house (although I think I need to review the story of Hansel and Gretel as I stumbled as I told it).

If you ever are doing a gingerbread house with a young child, I HIGHLY recommend that you hot-glue the structure together before the child is involved and then do the decorating with the little lady (or gentleman).

Here is our creation:

Our method was for Ellery to tell me where to put the frosting and then she would stick the candy on.  After the first application of frosting I already had some on my hands.  Ellery noticed it and said, "Can I lick your thumb?  You have frosting on it."

Here are a few other photo gems from the Thanksgiving adventure:

 I love my family!  And my heart is full of gratitude. I hope you are able to say the same.   

Seriously?

On Thursday I did some work on our family budget.  We usually do pretty well with budgeting, but as Christmas is coming up, I thought it would be a good idea to check in with what we planned on spending for the holidays. 

So, doo do dooo - singsong voice, I printed out a nice little blank spreadsheet of all the people we will be buying gifts for and additional expenses (decorations, wrapping paper... you know).  I printed two copies and had a beautiful plan in my head of Andy and I both individually considering what we thought was reasonable to spend.  Then our Budget Meeting could be short, simply us bringing our ideas to the table and finding a nice middle ground.  It was going to be easy-peasy-lemon squeezy.

What world do I live in?

What really happened was that I showed Andy the sheet and told him my plan.  He made a comment that hurt my feelings (not intentionally, I'm sure.  He would never be snappy on purpose!).  What resulted was a fit of tears and sobbing and hysterics... and blank spreadsheets. 

It was horrible.

But we got over it and went to bed on speaking terms. Always.

Friday came along and I was plagued by a day of indecision.  No choice seemed like the right one.  Lunch options, evening plans, discussions about what the weekend might hold, I was totally paralyzed.  I attributed it to the emotion-hangover from Thursday.  I just kept pep-talking myself and saying, just do SOMETHING. I know myself well enough to know that when emotion strikes, it will go as quickly as it came and I just have to do the best that I can until it washes away.

Saturday passed with nothing much to report, except an insatiable hunger (probably all that working out I've been doing) and Sunday was delightful (see my previous post) minus the blemish on my chin that Andy was kind enough to point and laugh at.

So you would think: emotional, hungry, indecisive... lady, don't you know what's coming?  No.  It didn't really cross my mind.  Every month I'm kind of caught off guard for a few days.  

Why am I so hungry?

Why is my skin weird?

Why am I SO tired, but can't seem to fall asleep?

Why did I TOTALLY blow that comment out of proportion and why am I in a sobbing heap under every blanket that I own?

Hmmm...

Sure enough, hello Monday.  Thanks for clearing those things up for me.  My sweet Andy was kind enough to keep his commentary to himself over the weekend, but once his theory had been proved his line was, "I wondered, but I thought I was better off not saying anything."

Right you were!

That never goes over very well does it?  "Honey, um, could it maybe, um, be that time of the month?"

NO! Uh. Okay, well maybe.  Let me check the calendar.  Oh.  Yeah.  Maybe. Sorry honey.

Seriously? I've been a woman for more than a decade.   How can I be so dense and unaware?  How? 

I was going to get my hair cut this week, but given the lame results last month and my propensity to get emotionally flustered this week, I thought I would postpone until next week. 

Luckily the worst of the hormonal torrent is over and in its wake I have the following entertaining tidbits for you:

One:  Jack now has a HURRY crawl.  It is mainly employed when he sees that I have left the bathroom door open.  He locks eyes on the doorway and then scrambles toward it.  However, his speed does not actually increase, he just pants really loudly like he would if he were in fact moving quickly, which he doesn't.  Yet.  

He tried to do the hurry crawl tonight in the bathtub.  He flopped himself on to his stomach and then got up on his knees.  His goal was to grab the bottle of baby shampoo on the ledge of the tub.  He got is hands and legs moving in coordination, but because the tub floor was so slippery, he just looked like a cartoon character with those spinning legs that don't actually move anywhere.

Two: This afternoon I watched my nephew Dane.  Dane has a cool trick that he does with his dirty diapers.  After he's been changed, you can tell him to throw the diaper in the trash and he walks to the cabinet below the sink and throws the diaper away.  

Today, I was fixing Jack some food, or doing something that had my attention.  I heard Dane behind me in the kitchen and then I heard foil hit the floor.  The only place he could get foil was from the trash can.  Before I was able to intercept, Dane had retrieved a piece of bread that I burnt while making my lunch.  Yes people, I do occasionally burn things (twice this week actually.  Can hormonal imbalance be blamed for burning dinner?).  And yes, people, he did eat that piece of bread.  

He actually carried it into the living room and curled up in the baby bouncer with the bread underneath him.  When he was ready to eat it he got up on his knees, reached under his rump and retrieved the burnt bread (can you imagine the crumbs?).  

Three:  I started cleaning my side of the bed.  My side of the bed is a mess of discarded t-shirts, half-read books, kleenex and bobby pins.  Would you care to guess how many bobby pins?  

Go on.  Guess.

Higher.

Higher.

Even Higher.

45

That is more than come in one brand-spankin-new box of bobby pins.  In addition there were eight other various clips.  

How does THAT happen?  

One of the wonders of the universe I guess.  

So if you ever need a spare pin, now you know where to find it.

And in case you've been having a few of THOSE DAYS in a row, might I gently suggest you check your calendar?

My Hero

The last few days have been a little exhausting.  You know the kind where your to do list extends way beyond your mortal powers to complete... yeah, a few of those days in a row and I was feeling pretty wiped out.

But then, I looked at my list and thought, "What is the worst that can happen if I don't get everything done?"  Well, the very worst is that people might think I'm a jerk because I didn't call them back, but I'm pretty bad at returning phone calls anyway and I think people still like me, so I've already crossed that bridge.  

All the impending doom I imagine as a result of my empty check boxes is just that, imagination. (The universe will not implode because I didn't clean out our pantry or sweep the kitchen floor, nor will my family go hungry because I did not organize my shopping list by aisle)  This is a lesson Andy is teaching me.  His words are "chill out."  Not always my favorite thing to hear, but when I think it and do it before he has to tell me, I feel pretty smug.  

You know what else eased the weariness of an uncompleted list?  It has to do with Andy again.  He was out tonight getting some work done on his tattoo (don't be jealous ladies,  my husband is such a good, bad boy!) and I asked him if he could pick up dinner.  When he was finished he called me to find out what I wanted.  Our usual "will you pick up dinner" conversation goes a little something like this:

ME: Can you pick up dinner?

ANDY: Sure honey.  What do you want?

ME: Oh, whatever.

ANDY:  Like what?

ME: *frustrated that he can't read my mind* I don't know honey.  I'm tired.  Just get something.

ANDY: *frustrated that he can't read my mind AND that I don't know what I want* makes a suggestion to which I say yeah, fine.  Or, alternate ending, I say in a huffy voice, "Nevermind, just get yourself something, I'm not that hungry."

But tonight, Andy called and shyly proposed that he pick up my guilty pleasure (which I am afraid to confess to all of blogdom... so I don't think that I will.  Just know that it is greasy and probably causes cancer and comes from a drive thru.)  which is EXACTLY what I wanted!  What a guy, how did he know?  That small proposal set us off giggling and flirting like when we were dating.  I loved every second of it!

And now, my list is forgotten (well, at least set aside momentarily), my tummy is full and tomorrow looks bright.  

Way to go Andy, you saved the day again!