Dear Diary, I'm Sorry I Never Write in You Anymore

I used to write things like that in my diaries when I was a kid.  I think it's funny since the diary doesn't have feelings, but you, kind readers, do--so if anyone missed me terribly I do apologize.

In the gap of posts my life has been filled with a lot of home improvement projects, including me trying to figure out how to not be a slob.  I haven't had any success with that one.  But, hopefully I will have many before and after pictures to show you soon.  I have thirteen cans of paint I keep moving around the house and it is getting old.

See you soon?

I'm Wilting, WILTING!

The other day I was bored (why on earth I had time to be bored I have no idea), so I read through some of my old posts and came across a picture of my plants during much happier days.  I thought it was so funny, I gathered them up for an updated family picture so you could see how they have changed...

2010

2013

Maybe they would be doing better if I could remember to water them more than once a year?

Invasion

It has happened again.  Another battle lost, in spite of all of the reinforcements I sent down the hatch (Vitamin C, Zinc, Vitamin D3, and Ibuprofen).  There was nothing I could do.  They came out of no where: invisible invaders.

My soldiers are cold and shivering and no amount of blankets and hot water bottles can warm them.  They are hurt and suffering, just waiting for the light of day (when the walk-in clinic opens).

Strep throat.  I'll bet you a hundred bucks.

Lest I Forget

The other day I looked across the kitchen at my one-year-old and tried to take a mental picture.  I don't want to forget that moment, the way his cherubic head only stood a few inches above the table top, even though he was strapped into a booster chair.  His eyes were only half open because it was nap time and he had blackberry smoothie all over his face.

Motherhood has been a little overwhelming lately.  Probably because of all of the poop.  I know when I started this blog I said that I was not going to talk about poop, so I apologize if I caught you off guard.  Some days I just have to say to myself, "It will be okay.  This kid will be able to wipe without your help someday, and someday that kid will stop having accidents, and this baby will not be in diapers forever..."

Other days I'd give anything to freeze time, like the first time my first baby called from her crib, "MoOooommeeeee!  I wakin' up."  I heard it loud and clear over the baby monitor, even from my coma (the kind resulting from sleep deprivation).

Or the time my second baby, hardly a hair on her head, purposely made funny faces that had her paternal great-grandmother laughing so hard there were tears rolling down her face.  That baby gave quite a few people the joyful medicine only a good deep-gutted laugh can give.

Then there was the way my third baby used to always smile with his eyes closed and his hands reaching out front in a grabbing motion, like he was trying to tickle me from a distance.  I couldn't plant enough kisses on  his round chipmunk-like cheeks.  The dimple in the left side is like the chocolate syrup, toffee bits, and the cherry on top.

So I savor the sweet moments and endure the poopy ones, reminding myself daily how these bits of Heaven are my greatest treasures.

Some moments are perfect, and even though they are tiny in the eternal timeline, they are still big enough to hold all my love...






It turns out as I was writing this, my baby found a jar of jam on the table and began eating it in true Winnie-the-Pooh-with-a-honey-pot fashion.  I couldn't decide if I should grab a rag or the camera.  Then thinking of how much my mom would love a picture of my son loving on her jam, the camera won the debate.  The only problem is, it wouldn't wake up and take a picture, even with new batteries.  So I tried to use the still shot on my video camera, but they always turn out blurry.

See?

And then I realized this sums up my post perfectly.  Motherhood is sticky, sweet, broken, beautiful, and MESSY.

And I really do love it.

Quoting the Cute: Page Seventeen

My third-grader asked her dad to write her a math problem.  He's good at that:  he does it for a living!  He wrote an addition problem (something like "2754 + 3532 = ") and handed her the pencil to work the problem.  The first thing she did was add commas after the first digit in both numbers.  I had to chuckle because he is always the one to remember the details, especially in math.  The fact that she was correcting him was highly entertaining to me!

Four-year-old:  "Can I have a samwinch?"  (She starts kindergarten this year, so I guess it's time to teach her the proper way to say this word.  Sad face.)

One day as I was getting my three-year-old son out of the tub I said, "We need to hurry. Do you want to go to church naked?" His face lit up as he said in an excited voice, "YEAH!" and took off running.  (Silly mom. I should have known better than to ask him that!)

On my baby's first birthday he said his first words:  "Uh-oh."

Eight-year-old, with her nose in a book:  "I'm doing my chores, Mom!"  (When she was in first grade, we made her a chore chart.  Reading twenty minutes a day was on the list.  It still is, but she will read for hours if she can, so sometimes she has a hard time pulling herself away to get her other chores done.)

*...Just got back from a daydream where I did nothing but read a book all day.  My husband came home from work and the house was in shambles and the oven was cold, but when I told him I read a whole book he praised me for a job well done.*

I wish there was some way I could describe to you the way my four-year-old says "chicken."  I've been wanting to buy a digital recorder for these sorts of things, but have you seen how much those things cost?  For ten years I've been waiting for the price to go down, but it won't!

Sooooo, I tried to use my video camera to catch my daughter's "chicken," and then spent three hours trying to figure out how to get it here:

(Yes, I know the lens cap was closed.  Yes, I know I need to take a technology class or something.)

Three-year-old:  "Your butt is pretty, Mom."

My one-year-old has now added "moo, ow, and quack" to his repertoire.  Are you wondering if we live on a farm?

Have you caught a chicken today?

"Never, Ever, Ever, Ever, Ever, Ever, Ever, Give Up. Never Give Up. Never Give Up. Never Give Up."

Maybe you have asked yourself whatever happened to that Amelia girl.  Probably not, but that's okay.  Life these days has had a way of ripping all of my plans out of my hands and stomping them into the mud after shredding them into little tiny bits.

BUT I REFUSE TO GIVE UP.

Like, remember how I tried to paint the boys' room?  It was so close once.  My best friend forever came and helped me paint it and it was beautiful for one day.  Then my two-year-old (who is now three) discovered something that shocked and horrified and confused me all at once.

So we've been peeling and sanding and picking for months now and I fear it will never be ready to be repainted.

BUT I REFUSE TO GIVE UP.

And I finally did try the couch to 5K thing.  On the first day of training I was only five feet from the end of my sprint when I landed on a rock the size of my baby's fist and almost fell down.  That evening I was sure my left foot was broken because I couldn't walk on it.  I spent the next morning crutching around the hospital, but it all turned out because it's not broken.  I get to wear this for another day or so and I won't be running for awhile.

BUT I REFUSE TO GIVE UP.  I'll start over with day one as soon as my foot has healed.  And next time I will run when it is light outside.  What was I thinking?  There are murderers and rapists and ROCKS out there.  Running alone in the dark is just not a good idea.

We got a tree the day after Thanksgiving and the day after that it was set up in the front room. I planned for us to have it all decorated the day after that, but after two weeks, it still looks like this:

BUT I REFUSE TO GIVE UP.

This tree is getting decorated today if I have to do it myself.

Quoting the Cute: Page Sixteen

"Ew!" (what my seven-year-old says when she sees her parents kissing).

I asked my four-year-old if she knew how to eat a cherry and she said, "Yup, you just pull out the pin and spit out the beads!"

My two-year-old loves to point to his baby brother and tell people who he is:  "Mine brudder!"  (No, we don't speak German at home.  Just English and Finnish.)

Seven-year-old:  "Today is the worst day of my life."  I have heard this more than once.

Four-year-old:  "Can I have gum?"  It seems like she asks this all the time!

Two-year-old:  He pronounces "cookie" like "hooky" and when he sings the Cookie Monster song, I laugh every time, especially at the last part...or when he says, "Hooky Monster likes hookies."

My friend gave my seven-year-old a cute a-line haircut and styled it for her (it had a nice round shape to it).  Instead of saying thank you when she saw it in the mirror, she said, "I look like an extra-terrestrial."

My four-year-old always says, "axe" instead of "ask."  I'm not ready to correct her mispronunciations because I'm not ready for her to grow up!

Two-year-old:  Every morning he says "Go-morninga, Mom."  During the day it's, "You funny, Mom," and at night it's always, "Go-nighta, Mom."

Nine-month-old:  This kid loves to sit and babble to himself.  He must have interesting stuff to say because he can entertain himself for hours!