Babies update

Yesterday, the babies reminded me that I hadn't updated the world on their recent conquests. Both of them crawl all over the place and get into a lot of trouble on an hourly basis. They have teeth (A2-3, N-5), and they wave, clap, and dance. They don't fight over toys yet per se—it's more of a continual change in ownership as they pass a toy back and forth, back and forth. N stands by herself all the time and takes one or two steps every now and then. And Brooke, your boys better watch out, cause A2's been working on his fake laugh and clap routine... it's pretty dang cute.

Let us out now!

This scenario happens approximately 24 times a day. Usually, both of them are sitting in the middle of the pile.

Go ahead and try to not be charmed by their plaid cuteness. Go ahead. Try.

Swimsuit shopping

As a woman, trying on clothes can be depressing. After you've had kids, it's even worse. And I think there are few things that are more torturous that trying on swimsuits after you've had children.

About three years ago, I broke down and got a new swimming suit. I hate how expensive they can be, but my suit at the time was old, sad, and stretched out—a potentially disastrous combo when you're already fighting with gravity anyway. I got a tankini/skirt combo with an extra higher-waisted swimsuit bottom underneath so that no one gets an unfortunate viewing of my belly area. I do like it but I find that I'm always adjusting the top, which can be annoying.

The other night, I went to Target to look for a new tankini top. There was sagging, drooping, and just general unattractiveness. After trying on several, each with worsening results, I gave up and left as quickly as I could. All I have to say is, thank goodness I wasn't trying on bottoms! I bought two cute short-sleeved sweaters to make me feel better.

When I got home, I told my husband that going swimsuit shopping is a mean reminder that my body is broken. "It's not broken!" he said. I said, "Ok, then, damaged? Used? Fallen?"

Take your pick. Any of the above adjectives will work. :)

A thing of beauty

Like most people, I procrastinate from time to time (or maybe every day). One project that's been put off for a while now is the Cleaning and Re-organization of the Pantry project. However, I couldn't handle the clutter any longer, so last week I tackled it.

Very quickly, I was reminded of why I actually love projects like these. I really should do them more often. After I wiped down all of the shelves, I began putting things back. My OCD-self kicked in with great delight as I lined things up. A row of cereal boxes. Baking goods organized together. Baby food, all in one place! And the best part of all? Throwing crap away. De-junking has got to be one of the greatest household tasks. Yeah, it can be annoying when you let stuff pile up, but oh, the bliss when you get to throw things away and carve out a clean space.

Ahh. I love it.

Behold... the clean pantry. To quote Mary Poppins—or maybe it's actually John Keats—"a thing of beauty is a joy forever." Or, until the beautiful pantry gets messed up by the little people that I live with.

Chicken salad and friends

Today, whilst eating some yummy chicken salad, I thought of a dear friend—specifically the dear friend who made the chicken salad for an after-bike-race BBQ and then brought me the leftovers because she knows how much I love it.

I'm thankful for friends (that includes sisters and other female family members, of course) who listen to my troubles and give me advice... but mostly just listen.
I'm thankful for friends who understand what it's like to want to run away from your children.
I'm thankful for friends who know when I need help and (nicely) make me accept it.
I'm thankful for friends who laugh at my jokes.
I'm thankful for friends who always seem to call at just the right times.

And, I'm thankful for friends who bring me leftover chicken salad.

Sorry, no tantalizing pictures of the chicken salad. I only thought to do this post after I'd finished it.

Like mother, like daughter

Growing up, we used to tease my mom that she couldn't just sit and do nothing. When she watched a movie, she sorted coupons at the same time. I rarely saw my mom lying on the couch with a book unless she didn't feel well. We also used to laugh when she'd say, "Time to get your Saturday chores done. It's always better to work now and then play later. Let's listen to the radio while we work!" Yeah, right, Mom!

It appears that in more ways than one, I'm turning into my mother. :) Last Saturday, A gave me my Mother's Day present. I told him a few months ago that all I wanted was a morning in bed without feeding babies, feeding older kids, and breaking up fights. I decided that a Saturday would work better than a Sunday, because of church. I wrote out a schedule for him on Friday night, readied my books to read and movies to watch, and got way too excited.

I tried to sleep in, but that didn't work out so well, what with the loud children downstairs and all. So, I read a book. After a while, I realized I was bored. Not in a bad way, mind you, but bored nonetheless. "Why are the boys yelling down there? Maybe I should go help." "I can't just sit here in bed all morning. Maybe I should get up and take a shower."

I resisted, though, and barely moved out of bed until A put the babies down for their morning nap and took the older kids off to Grandma's house to ride bikes. After that, I got ready for the day, ate breakfast, and started watching Persuasion. Puttering around the house a bit helped alleviate some of the earlier boredom but I was struck by my inability to just sit and do nothing. I used to be able to lie in bed until noon when I was a teenager with no problem. Now, I get antsy if I'm not getting things done by 8 am. I can relax, but only if everything in the house is clean and babies are sleeping. I don't think this busyness is necessarily a bad thing—just another "mom" trait, I guess!

It also appears that my daughter is starting to exhibit similar traits. Sunday morning, she asked me how to spell "schedule." This is what she wrote up:
I told her that we don't usually clean the house on Sunday, but she was really excited about it... and who I am to discourage cleanliness in a child? She dusted, moved crumbs around the kitchen with the broom, cleaned her toy dishes, wiped the counters in her bathroom, and played her accordion for the babies (meant to be a lullaby, apparently, but you can imagine it was a bit more rousing than that).


P.S. Note to my husband: Rather than think to yourself, "Ha! Tennille really does love getting up with the kids and rushing around all morning to get life going," I think what's needed here is more practice at doing nothing. I propose that we have Mother's Day one Saturday every month.

Honesty

One of the things I love about blogging is the way it helps me document the events of my life. I haven't been a good journal keeper since college, so this has been a great way to keep track of big and small things that happen.

But it comes with a downside—the very public nature of that journal. I often write something positive, in place of something honest. To a certain extent, I think this is a good thing. Most people probably don't want to read about the seemingly small complaints that I have. And when I take a step back and try to find the positive slant to a particular challenge, I'm usually the better for it.

But, I also believe that every now and then, it's more important to be honest. Too often, I don't want to share the frustrations I have or insecurities I deal with because I don't want people to think I'm a complainer, especially when my problems are so small compared to others. But I also know how much I gain when I read an honest post about someone else's struggles.

I think there's real power in honesty.

So... here goes.

I've been in and out of a funk for a while now. I kept chalking it up to this event or that stress—"work is so busy with convention; A2 isn't sleeping well; I just can't get the kids to obey;"—but convention's over, just had an awesome vacation, and funk is still firmly in place. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm dealing with depression, mostly because funk sounds better in my head than depression.

I'm either crying over everything, or weirdly unemotional. Little rule infractions by the kids send me over the edge. I don't have much interest in much of anything. More often than not, I want to run away rather than deal with stuff. In short, I haven't been dealing all that well with the details of my life.

To-do list to get out of aforementioned funk
1. Exercise more regularly. Exercise=happy-making endorphins.
2. Have better scripture study and more meaningful prayers for more balance and peace.
3. Read good books instead of watching TV. (Incidentally, I would love some book suggestions.)
4. Get better at accepting help from friends and family.
5. Remember that challenges help us have empathy for others. Look for ways to serve others so you don't focus on your own problems.

I've been feeling somewhat good the past few days, so hopefully, this means more up days than down days in the future. Here's to hoping this funk goes away soon, and that your own semi-dark periods are infrequent visitors in your house.