Danny's 6th Birthday

Grizzly Peak Hike

Last week we decided to take advantage of this lovely fall weather (October...sigh) and take a hike. We've never done Grizzly Peak, so we tried it out. The kids did great--only a little whining--and we made it about 3 miles. I'd still like to see the actual peak, but we all enjoyed ourselves. And Grace counted 11 dogs. Sarah, as ever, was a stalwart helper.

Oh you know, just dreams coming true all over the place.

Some days are exhausting and hard. But then there are days like today. Days when there's no school so you read books and play silly little games and bake cookies and watch dragon movies and fold laundry. When you let the teenage chicks have free rein of the backyard and you sit on the back deck and putter around with graph paper plans of your vegetable garden and scheme about what to plant around the chicken run and where to put the compost.

And we got a piano. A beautiful, old piano that we all plunk on and will someday know how to get music out of. Sometimes you wait years in between each dream. Sometimes hours. Chickens, kids, pianos, yards.

And sometimes a hawk tries to eat your baby chickens and your sweet 4-year-old daughter stands guard while Nugget gets up the courage to come out from under the laurel bush. Because Daddy told Grace to take care of his chicken while he's at work (because hers isn't doing so well and we're hoping to covertly transfer stewardship in case little Peeper doesn't make it).

Grace, Super Helper

Hello Wi-Fi. Hello Blog!

This girl. My sweet, fierce, awkward, sassy, beautiful girl. After a crazy Monday full of school drop offs, Singers Company, and having friends over, I kept Tuesday as calm as possible. James got a nap (Hallelujah), and that laundry pile finally got folded. The clothes are still there, but they're at least different clean clothes now. We made time (I swear, we have to carve it out of stone) to bring cookies to Dad and go to the park.

And Grace was my little helper the whole time. She loves to work by my side. Or Jesse's. Yesterday she helped him finish the backyard fence--but that's another post. She folded laundry, helped me make cookies, made her own lunch, and wiped down the mixer and the counter. I love her so.

There. I blogged! Here's to more record keeping.

Testing, testing

Just a shout out into the void. Due to computer/internet limits, I've been an absentee recorder of our life events. Hoewever, Jesse has just informed me that Blogger has an app! Who knew? So although there will probably be an influx of commas where there should be spaces (my thumbs have gained weight or my new phone has a strange keypad arrangement), here I go again.

A year between posts makes catch-up a little hard, so here are a few basics: we had a baby (Mr. James). Danny is three, Gracie is two, and Jesse has completed his first semester of nursing school. I have rediscovered Robert Frost and am pushing toward more obscure poets in an effort to feel more legitimate. Also rediscovered: the bliss of a clean bedroom, the necessity of meal planning, and how much I want to write/am terrified of it.

Day after Christmas, 2014

I'm not sure if anyone reads this ol' thing anymore, but hopefully this post will serve as a reminder to myself. We just had the most beautiful Christmas. Daniel was old enough to be really excited about the lights and decorations and the candy canes (his only Christmas wish was that Santa would bring him a candy cane). We had a Secret Santa who bought us all thoughtful gifts and gift cards for a date night out. We delivered treats and visited with so many friends. We spent Christmas night at my grandma's house where we all received meaningful gifts. Mom made me a beautiful maternity apron out of materials from my childhood. Pieces of cloth from a puppet theater we used to love, old pillows and beloved tablecloths. It's beautiful. Grandma gave Jesse Grandpa's antique pedometer and one of his first watches. We gave her a photo book of pictures of her with the kids and Grandpa. There were tears, good food, laughs--all the things I've always hoped Christmas would bring.
    And yet, here I sit at 12:56 in the morning looking around at a houseful of chaos. And I'm feeling guilty for not being a better housekeeper. How silly is that? I'm sick, pregnant, and trying to keep up with two toddlers. Why is it so hard for us to just hold onto those precious little moments that we know mean so much more than a clean house?
     Jesse once forced me to describe the things I saw around me when I was feeling this way. So here's what I see. My husband, asleep next to me on the couch (the guy who let me take a nap and bought me pudding and cleaned the kitchen). A beautiful Christmas tree. A figurine of a mother and her two kids that reminded Jesse of me. Paintings if our kids. A new Raggedy Ann doll for Gracie from my mom. Clean clothes to be folded. Tea Jesse bought for my throat. Books. The gingerbread house we made with my grandma. Remnants of dinner brought over by a sweet friend. The table Jesse made. The other table Jesse made. The scarf Danny picked out for Daddy. Get it yet? Yes, there are also bills in a pile, clutter, bathrooms that could use a wash down. But I hope I look back and don't remember that stuff. After all, I don't think Grace and Danny will.

Lessons Almost Learned

So instead of trying to catch up from my 9-month blogging hiatus or filling this post with pictures of adorable babies, I thought I'd return to the blogging world by reviewing a few things I've learned being the mother of two little people.

1. What's that smell? It's poop. But I just changed both kids--no it's poop. Maybe it's the garbage? Nope--poop. Not the baby? Then it's toddler poop. Ok, ok, you've learned that lesson and this time it's really something else? Poop. It's poop! If it's not in the diaper, then it's somewhere else, but it's poop.

2. Baby spit is just little human water. It will get in your mouth, and that's ok. Go ahead and finish that spoonful of oatmeal for her. Kiss the slobberchin. Drool on your clothes? It'll dry and no one will know. Heck, those jeans have to last you for at least another week (see number 3). Same goes for baby pee, though I can't give a solid endorsement for its consumption. Try to avoid.

3. When people talk about doing more laundry when you have kids, they don't mean just baby clothes. It's YOUR clothes. You, with the slug trails on your arms. To say nothing of vomit. Let's just not.

4. It's ok to pray for Lightning McQueen. He's your son's best friend, and he's got a road to finish.