Halfway There.

Charlie is just three days shy of turning six months old. I can hardly believe it. I read back through the blog entries from his first few weeks of life, and then the ones from months two and three, and I cannot believe how quickly it has all gone by. I have conflicting feelings about this, as Charlie was maybe not the most easy-going baby on this planet for a couple of months there, but OH! he still had the sweet little baby sounds when he slept, and he still napped on my chest sometimes, and in between the psychosis-inducing screams he was still a sweet little newborn. But on the other hand, we are halfway to the land of milk and honey: One Year Old. I remember this clearly with Ella, except that I had no clue that One Year was when things started maybe letting up a little bit. One Year! Down to two naps a day! No longer having to map out my every minute according to an infant's eating/sleeping schedule! The baby can feed himself! Of course, I will also no longer have a baby, I will have a toddler, and the problems will still be there...just different. Tantrums! Molars coming in! An entire box of Cheerios dumped on the floor and crushed! The discovery of the word NO! So I am trying my best to enjoy each and every minute of this little guy's first year in this world, with the realization that he is our last baby, ever. We are done, this baby-making shop is closed for good. So the yummy baby toes and each new milestone are bittersweet: a first for Charlie, and so exciting to watch, but the last for me and the husband to experience. I am thankful each and every day for this boy and everything new he has taught me about being a mother, no matter how hard a lesson it has been to learn at times. Six months. I can't believe it.

For Charlie.

Oh, my Charlie.
Why do you believe
That seeing the sun rise
At 5:30 means it is
Time to wake up?
Go back to sleep,
And stay asleep until 7am
Before Mommy has to buy stock
In Folger's.
Or hang a big black blanket
Over your crib.

Cheaper Than Therapy.

Years ago, around the time I turned sixteen, I started a journal. I went to a bookstore, picked out the most beautiful, expensive book of paper I could find, and started filling it with my favorite things: quotes, song lyrics, phrases I liked, passages that made me nod my head in agreement because they were written just so. This was not a journal is the traditional sense; there are no personal entries about things that were happening to me at the time or angst-riddled paragraphs about high school crushes or painful breakups. But these journals are among my most prized possessions, and are one of the first things I would grab were there to be a fire at my house (after my laptop. Oh, and the kids. Kids, of course.). Every time I look back through these journals I can FEEL how I felt when I first read the books that are quoted on its pages, or how I felt when I first heard the songs whose lyrics are written there. And occasionally I will fish them out of the cabinet where they live and read back through all of the years and years worth of treasures. And I will inevitably find the one perfect quote or saying for something that is maybe not so right in my life at the moment. Whether it is something to make me laugh, or to take myself a little less seriously, or just to remind me how life works sometimes, the answer is usually there in the quotes of fifty books and twenty songs and countless poems.

I happened upon these books today while the kids were napping and spent the rest of naptime laying across my bed, reading every single page once more. And I thought, wouldn't it be great if everyone had books like these, where they could turn for some advice, or comfort, or just to reminisce about their favorite books they've ever read? So here are my absolute favorite entries from my oh-so-personal journals. I would be a bit more hesitant to post these here if more than four people read this blog, but I think I'm safe there.
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"Maybe, she thought, it helps to stop longing for huge significance, meaningful new memories; maybe it helps to be satisfied instead with these little moments of connection."


"But I do believe that God is with us even when we're at our craziest and that this goodness guides, provides, protects, even in traffic."

"...grace in the theological sense, meant it as the force that infuses our lives and keeps letting us off the hook. It is unearned love- the love that goes before, that greets us on the way. It's the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left, when you are empty and desperate and have discovered that your best thinking and most charming charm have failed you. Grace is the light or electricity or juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place and puts you with others who are as startled and embarrassed and eventually as grateful as you are to be there."

"I think I already understand about life: Pretty good, some problems."

"And traveling mercies, too. I can't help but say again what I said on the beach that day, in a whisper this time and without even being exactly sure to whom I am saying it: Thank You. Thank You. Thank You."

"Oh, nobody understands anything. We're all just here, blinking in the light like kittens. The older I get, the more I see that nothing makes sense but to try to learn true compassion."

"Sometimes I think that Jesus watches my neurotic struggles, and shakes his head and grips his forehead and starts tossing back mojitos."

"They used to be my age, and I will soon be theirs. They have never forgotten the reason to love."

"There is some comfort in that story, for the way it suggests that there is a reason for everything, even though it may not be apparent. But there is this, too: some places get to stay dry. Some places don't get hit at all. I will take my comfort there."

"And I am also, now, so acutely aware of the passage of time, how we come suddenly to our own, separate closures. It is as though a thing says, 'I told you. But you thought I was just kidding.'"

"I am thinking about the way that life can be so slippery; the way that a twelve-year-old girl looking into the mirror to count freckles reaches out toward herself and that reflection has turned into that of a woman on her wedding day, righting her veil. And how, when that bride blinks, she reopens her eyes to see a frazzled young mother trying to get lipstick on straight for the parent/teacher conference that starts in three minutes. And how after that young woman bends down to retrieve the wild-haired doll her daughter has left on the bathroom floor, she rises up to a forty-seven-year-old, looking into the mirror to count age spots."

*Disclaimer: Apparently some people have grossly overestimated my writing abilities and thought that I wrote these quotes. HA! Not so. I just didn't type out each author's name after each quote. Most of them are by one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott.

Update On All Of The Insanely Exciting Stuff We've Been Doing.

Playgroups, the park, swimming, snow cones, wringing out laundry by hand because Dear Lord the washer is still not fixed, long walks around the neighborhood, naps (yay), watching Horton Hears A Who five times per week (not so yay, but hey, MOMMAS NEED BREAKS, TOO), more swimming, and being in complete denial that Charlie is almost six months old. Yes, because WAAHHH my baby is halfway to his first birthday, but also because I am rapidly loosing my grip on the whole "I just had a baby, so this lovely roll of skin here on the belly? Yeah, that's acceptable because I JUST HAD A BABY" excuse. You'll know when that excuse is no longer viable because you will say it to someone and they will then look at you, then look at your baby, as if to say, "Dude, your baby is eating crackers and starting to say actual words. Time to hit the gym."

A Long, Crappy Day. And Then...

Charlie is not a good teether. Turns out? He loves nothing more than to sit perfectly content in his chair for about five minutes, and then start the Cats In A Bag screaming for, oh, ten minutes straight. He refuses teething rings and frozen chew toys, he just screams. A lot. So you can imagine that this makes for some looong days around here. And one exhausted and cranky momma. Yesterday was filled with a bunch of piddly crap that annoyed me at every turn...the cabinet door fell off its hinges, laundry was piling up due to a broken washing machine, Ella was whiny, my feet stuck to the kitchen floor every time I walked on it due to a popsicle or juice or something being spilled on it, and Sir Screams A Lot was relentless in The Screaming and refusing to be comforted by anyone or anything, ever. But then the husband got home with a Sno-Cone machine from his office, and all was right with the world. A hot day, sitting on our back deck with grape snow cones, listening to Ella chatter about some nonsense having to do with her imaginary dog and the circus. Even Charlie stopped screaming. For a few minutes.

A Few Things I Love.

*Watching Charlie sleep peacefully in his stroller at the park, letting out a content sigh when a breeze blows on his face. And my God, the toes.



*The look of pure joy and excitement on Ella's face when we arrive at a park we've been to a thousand times.



*Spring and flowers and watching Ella "play with" lady bugs.







*When Charlie does something new and he smiles SO hard and squeals with delight. I can almost hear him thinking "Oh, my. This rolling over and scooting around thing is AMAZING!".



*The books I have read in the last week. Anyone in need of an absolutely incredible book to read, check out The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb, and The Story Of Edgar Sawtelle, by Someone Whose Name Escapes Me But I'm Too Lazy To Get Up And Look At The Book Right Now. Amazing.

Do You Think...

...that any of the nutrients in the sweet potato could maybe, possibly be absorbed through the SKIN? Because I am certain that only about 2% of it got down his throat. Feeding by osmosis would make my life exponentially easier...I could just save us both some time and effort and smear the baby food on his face myself.

It's. Still. Raining.

It's been pointed out to me that it has been a few days since I last posted anything on here, but you'll have to forgive me. You see, there has been a death in the family. Yes, half of my brain has actually atrophied and DIED from lack of stimulation and time spent outdoors. It has been raining here for two weeks straight with no sign of stopping any time soon. Remember way back when, before kids? And I was all, "Oh this rain sucks, it's such a minor inconvenience on my morning commute in to work!". And now? This rain is ruining my life. Try explaining to a three year old why you can't drive to the park right now because Oh, I KNOW it looks sunny right this minute, but the storms will be rolling in AGAIN in about an hour. We are rapidly running out of things to do inside the house. Activities this week have included: Finger painting, baking cookies, playing Barbies for hours on end, cleaning, making rice krispie treats, coloring, board games, dress-up, art projects, dancing, and let's not forget that favorite of all activities, Charlie's asleep so let's turn on a movie and see how long Ella will let me lay down and nap. For the love of God, this rain needs to stop. If for nothing else, for the love of my ass, because if I eat any more baked goods I won't fit into my pants next week. I also realized yesterday while Ella and I were throwing a ball in the living room that hey! AM PLAYING FETCH WITH MY THREE YEAR OLD. This needs to stop. Immediately.

Tuesdays Unwrapped.

On the way home from running errands yesterday, we were rushing to get inside and unpack groceries make lunch and clean up said lunch and get down for a nap and I still had 4,000 things to get done while the kids were napping and we were just generally in a hurry. After I got Charlie out of the car I turned around and found Ella in the front yard, dancing in the rain. She was twirling around and around, sticking out her tongue to catch raindrops on it. She was in her own little world and was having so much fun. And I stopped. And slowed down.









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