hawing is ok, but please, no hemming.

My life in recent weeks has been somewhat stressful, and definitely intense.

As hard as I try, I don't seem to have enough patience to last for the entire day. I have enough for a few trying catastrophes, but sometimes there are more catastrophes than there is patience, and those are the days when I find myself knee deep in moments that make me want to weep with disappointment for myself. For my lack of patience , my lack of understanding.

One such day was last Friday. This potty-training business is as hard as anything I have done before. Honestly. Literally. Seriously. What about labor you say? Well, with labor, there is a definitive moment when you're done. The baby comes out. That's it. Finish line crossed, battle won. With potty-training, there seems to be no end in sight. Everything was going fine. Then, suddenly, it wasn't.

Last week, it was a challenge each day. I seem to have run out of "tricks", because there was not a whole lot of motivation to get it right. My clean laundry pile was a true indication of how the week went. I washed some socks for my husband, a few shirts and one pair of paints for O man, and a running outfit and some socks for me. Then came Emma's pile. It was three time the size of ours. A ridiculous number of undergarments for my dear daughter. I sighed as I saw the evidence folded nicely on the counter. Yes, it was a hard week.

So on Friday that was it, it was the last straw. I really lost it. I hope that I did a contained version of losing it, but I'm not sure what the boundaries are to constituent "contained". Owen was holding onto my legs, crying to be picked up or paid attention to, and he would not stay out of the bathroom. Emma was screaming because she had had an accident. My ear happened to be very near to her mouth, and the stress barometer seems to rise quickly when the volume goes up. I was telling her repeatedly to "stop screaming", "it's ok", "we'll fix it".

It was a vicious cycle. We were all getting upset. I finally put Owen in his high-chair with a few crackers, I finished with Emma and told her to get dressed, and I went into the garage. I screamed a couple of times, and felt a lot better. The frustration is something I can't describe, but I'm telling you, it was so intense.

Then, the weekend came. It was nice. We spent it at one set of Grandparents, and they watched our kids while we went to a seminar to learn how to parent better. The timing was impecible. Lessons and advice on how to be a better mom, I was desperate for.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. I spent a few days breaking Emma of her new and terrible habit of screaming at me when she got in trouble. Advice that I heard over the weekend helped tremendously.

But then yesterday came. My mind was racing with things I needed to get done, with ways I could parent better, with questions of what I was doing right, or not right. It was just a rough morning. For one reason or another, I just felt inadequate. Like I just don't have it together, and can't seem to do all of these things that I want to in a day. I want to read to them everyday, I want to read by myself, I want to pray, I want to play, I want to sip coffee, I want to blow raspberry's on tiny tummies and giggle, I want to clean, I want to relax. I want to write, I want to cook, I want to sew.

Sew. Do I really want to learn how to sew? After a few experiences, I can assure you that I don't. I want to know how to sew, but the learning hasn't been all that fun, to be honest with you. My high expectations for myself were dashed as I hung Emma's curtains up several weeks ago, only to find that they were crooked, and the top and bottom of each weren't exactly the correct size. But, I forged ahead. I bought fabric for Owen's room, and began to make his.

The pinning and ironing part is driving me crazy. Last week I spent 30 minutes trying to get it pinned right, and looked at the final product only to discover that it was crooked. Ahh!!

Yesterday, I tried again, and guesed that it was acceptable. After I hemmed one side, I inspected the hem closely and saw that I had missed the fabric on the backside. Good grief. I redid it. I had to rip it out once before because the thread had gotten all tangled up, and it was showing the bobbin thread, rather than the blue thread. Then it got stuck.

The second side went a little better, but the fabric ended up kind of bunched up, and I didn't have the heart to do it again. I carefully measured the bottom, and ironed it, and gleefully put in the last hem.

In that sequence of events, the iron fell onto the carpeted floor, and of course a bunch of stuff got glued onto it. I had to spend about 10 minutes getting the carpet gunk off of it. Thankfully, I didn't ruin our iron, which is the second one I have had in this marriage.

After I hung up the curtain in Owen's room, I stepped back to inspect my work, and really could have cried. It was crooked. It wasn't right. It was terrible. I tried, and yet again, I failed.

Emma got up shortly after. We played some songs, and we all danced around together. Then, we all marched to Owen's room so I could change his diaper.

Emma was chattering away, and as she turned the corner into the bedroom, she stopped dead in her tracks. She looked up with her little face at that curtain, and she looked back at her mama, and she poured out her little heart. "Owen" she said, "you have a new curtain! It's so pretty. It looks so great. Mommy made you a curtain!" Her sincerity was genuine. She loved it.

It was a clarifying moment for me. All of the frustration I had melted away, all of my doubt about my qualifications for this job fell aside. She was really happy for me, and she was proud of me. She doesn't care if my dumb curtains look ridiculous. Just like she doesn't care if I do all of the things the books tell me to do, they don't care if I am super organized, and they surely don't care if I am caught up on the unending housework. They are learning how to be people from me, and I am learning how to be a mom from them.

I was reminded that my children need to see me venture out, to try new things. They need to watch their mom learn new things, and they need to see me fail. They need to watch me fail with confidence. They need to know that it's ok not to be perfect. I need to teach them that being imperfect is ok, that trying again is more vital to character than trying the first time. Part of being a good mom is being me, and I am more than wiping bottoms and sweeping cheerios and washing a ridiclous number of underwear in a week. A good mom is accepting of the learning process, and she shows her children that learning is hard, and not doing it as well as you had hoped to is hard, but you don't throw a tantrum about it, and you don't have a pity party. (me, I don't throw a tantrum about it!)

All of this stemmed from my little Emma's words.

The icing on the cake came later, as I was telling my husband this story in the kitchen after he came home for the day. In the midst of my recounting the events, little Emma sprang up from her seated position, and tried earnestly to tell her daddy...something. All we heard were bits of words and sentences. "Daddy....Owen...pretty..." On her way past him, with her little legs pumping as fast as possible, she threw out the only word she could get a handle on.

"RUN"!

She screamed it in excitement on her way to her brother's room, in great anticipation of showing her daddy what her mommy had made. Her joy seeped out of her, and we could not help the grins that showed themselves on our faces.

That, my friends, is the joy of mothering. And it makes all the crap I put up with worth it.

Often times we sit and remember the past year, and soak up how much easier it is now.

Past-While attempting to watch a movie or show, I would have to get up several times to comfort the baby. Many times, I would just take him back to the living room, because it was easier. Quality time was definitely a scarce commodity, and let's not revisit the worn out subject of very, very sleepless nights.

Present-Bedtime is often times one of the easiest parts of the day. After finishing some milk and cuddling for two or three minutes, Owen decides that it is now time to go to bed, and he lunges and twists for the mattress. A kiss and a pat, I leave, and don't hear from him for hours. Sometimes it is not as many hours as I would like, but we always have an evening to ourselves. Emma typically reads a few books, and kisses the last page goodnight before literally scampering down the hall to her room. She climbs in, and although she may not be asleep quickly, she is as happy as you could believe. She sings several songs, and talks with her butterfly and baby, and drifts off in her own good time.

Past-Emma in all of her sweetness was just a baby herself. She needed so much hands on help. She was beginning to master her spoon usage, but needed help. She was probably feeling like she got nudged out of the nest too early, and wanted to be the baby for a little while longer. I remember the stress of trying to keep her close to me while we were out. For the most part she did very well, but there were a few horrific instances that involved me leaving a screaming (honestly, if you have heard him, you know) baby in a car seat while chasing a very quick 18 month old, who giggled the entire time.

Present- Emma is a true little girl. She still needs help, of course, but is mastering many new tasks. Not only potty trained now, she can put her underwear and pants on by herself, and has manages with her shirt a few times as well. She feeds herself very well, and is learning to be patient. She plays by herself more, and is furthering the concept of pretend more all the time. This afternoon she "washed my hair" before "putting in a ponytail", and she made me some "juice coffee" a few days ago. She is beginning to truly earn my trust. Last week, we went to a favorite eating establishment that houses a fantastic toddler play area, and as we unloaded under the big arches, I plopped her down on the sidewalk in front of the van, and told to wait there. She didn't budge. In all her excitement, as she looked for her promised friends to arrive, she stood on that little square of cement and giggled and talked and pointed and waved, but, most importantly, she waited and she didn't move.

Past- Our old basement was a disaster, as we ever so tediously decided what to unpack. Unsure of our future housing arrangements, we didn't dare to unpack everything. We had bare, white walls and a cold, cold winter. We were short on square feet and overflowing with baby paraphernalia and toddler gear.

Present- I have let out a sigh and settled in. After three moves in less than two years, we gleefully threw away our boxes. Our walls now surround us with color, and we have put nails in the walls and curtains on the windows. The baby paraphernalia and unending trail of toys, books, pretend kitchen items and various real kitchen items that I have surrendered to the children still threaten to take over at times, but are much more easily managed thanks to a basement and some storage furniture upstairs.

I find that the days go slow but pass quickly, and I must force myself to be in the moment sometimes. Emma says darling things all day long, and Owen is learning at the speed of light. She'll say "How was your afternoon?" to her daddy, and Owen can go get items and bring them to you, and he communicates very effectively.

It has been a wonderful year, though much has changed. I feel really lucky, and am as content as ever.

xyz

Raking leaves.

Old man pj's

I thought that she resembled a cockier spaniel, with the hair.

Rock on man.

Success! This is post 5k run. My partner was a trooper to run with me, because she was definitely faster. It was fun, and I am sure that I'll try again next year.

Giggle me Elmo

The joys of a content and simple life are abundant for me here. There is little that I would rather do than have moments like these. A good belly laugh from your kids is pretty unbeatable.

Emma waking from nap is cause for celebration

It all seems worth it at times like these. My only question, will she like this as much when she is 16? Regardless of what the future holds, I am quickly and systematically becoming a third wheel around here.

And now...the rest of the story.

Miss Emma feeding "Baby".

O-dawg at 9 months. He now has 4 teeth, and is beginning to balance without holding onto things. I see his bright smile more than not. He is a happy little guy, and has amazing tolerance with his sister.

The cat made friends quickly. She is trying to resist the charm of the children, but who can resist them?

Emma got used to her new home quickly. I believe this was a day or two after we moved.

And for all of you who can relate, and for those who tolerate crazy moms, a crazy baby shot. He loves avocados!

Don't make me gag

A few days ago I was in the bathroom. And, as many of you can relate to, my children inevitably end up there with me more times than not. On this particular day, Owen discovered the toilet paper stand, which is a free standing type. It was great fun for him, and as hard as I tried I could not convince him otherwise. He pulled it down and I grabbed it before it bopped him on the head. Then, as I was occupied (for like 7 seconds, I swear) he pulled himself up and figured out how to unroll the toilet paper, which was much more fun. Emma thought she needed a turn too, so it wasn't long before there was toilet paper everywhere and a baby who did not want to sit down.

After I had the toilet paper rolled back up, I noticed Owen chewing. Oh boy. The standard finger sweep in his mouth did not produce anything. Clearly, he had ingested some of that wonderful t.p. The boy does not have a stomach capable of handling all of his impromptu snacks, so it was a matter of seconds before he began to gag.

The amazing thing was my reaction. As he began to make to sounds associated with eating things that should not be eaten, I calmly held him and instructed Emma to take a step backwards. I held onto my son and made sure that he was positioned on the rug, and as the toilet paper came up, I had the presence of mind to wait for round two, which came a moment later. I then plopped him on the floor, wiped him up and gathered the rug up to throw into the washer. My blood pressure did not rise, I didn't yell at Emma, I didn't freak out in the slightest. I was calm. Calm! No panicking. I marveled at this uncharacteristic approach of mine (I am the one who once ripped my husband's head off because Emma "is bleeding!" and he was calm while I was not) and was pleased with the conclusion that I came up with for this phenomenon.

I am officially the mom of...a boy.

pig's

A few weeks ago I put Em's hair in pig tails for the first time. She seems more like a little girl all the time. She is watching her first movie for the first time right now. It is a veggy tale movie from a good friend.

Over the weekend we took family pictures with my family. Successful? I don't know. Owen slept really poorly the night before, and didn't take a nap that morning. His eyes looked red and puffy, and he looked so tired. But they'll do. It was all in all a pretty good time.

Our life has settled down into a routine again. It feels good to be back to the day to day stuff.

Hello

Little Owen loves his mama. Here he was flirting with his Aunt Kari. He would hide under the blanket and pop back out. It was very fun. He does smile, but it is very hard to capture.

Emma with her pig tails.

We were outside enjoying the weather in the front yard. This guy loves to sit in the grass. Admittedly, he loves to taste the grass sometimes too.

It was pretty sunny out. It's definitely not a great shot, but we tried.


And now for some tidbits:

~I gave Emma a haircut yesterday. I may have gone a little short, but I think it turned out ok. It was certainly fun!

~Owen is officially a crawler. He has been mobile for several weeks, and has been army crawling for about two months. But I recently tried to show him how to stay up on his knees. He just didn't have the patience for it, but he has decided that it may be worth the extra time. He has only gotten and faster better at it in the last week.

~I have my garden tilled and almost all planted. It is a lot more work than I remember! Then I realized that I never helped much with planting. When I started the tiller for the first time last week, I immediately thought of my grandpa. The sound brought back a vivid picture of him. I remember him walking behind his red tiller for so many summers. I regret not learning more from him, not spending more time with him, and not helping him more. I walked behind the tiller as he had done so many times in his life, and thought that if he could see me now he would get quite a kick out of it. He may also chuckle at me crooked rows that I planted, and my cucumber hills. He was an amazing gardener, and an amazing man, and we all miss him so much.

~Owen is a tough dude. He doesn't get bothered by falling or bumping his head. He is a mellow little guy. I think he's pretty smart. He can pull himself up, but he is also getting really good at sitting back down. Hmm...look at him!

home sweet home

Well, it has been awhile. I get further behind with updating this blog, and then wonder what to put on it. Here are a few tidbits of the last few weeks.

We got our new house. Moving went really well, and we had awesome help to get the job done. Emma was a champ. When we moved in August it really seemed to take her a few weeks to get used to the new house. This time, however, she was really excited from the get go. I picked her up from her friend's house and brought her to the new house. She ran into her purple room, where all of her things had been moved to, and then proceeded to run into Owen's blue room, our red room, and ran around the kitchen. She has not missed a beat. Owen has adjusted well also. We are extremely happy, and are getting more and more things unpacked and put away. One of my favorite perks of our new abode is the fenced backyard. Emma can open the door to the backyard and go out by herself. She has been delighted to go pick dandilions and drive her mower on the deck. It's great.

We also got a cat. Emma and Owen both love her, and she kind of loves them back. She is a very patient and loving 5 month old gray kitty we adopted from the pound. I think her name is Ally, but she has a few different names right now. The others are "meow" and "kitty". So we'll see who she really becomes.

More pictures to come!

crazy

Great bed head.

Because it just tastes good

A few days ago I looked up good activities for two-year-olds. I got such great ideas and suggestions. Several people said that they like to color with crayons that don't have the paper on them.

Today, I told the Em that I was going to put the baby down for a nap, and that she should color for a few minutes. I unwrapped the red crayon and told her to use it, and wasn't it cool that it didn't have a wrapper anymore? Off I went.

While calming the baby, I thought to myself, "She is being so good. I think that I'll give her a treat for staying out of his room while I try to get him drowsy. She is such a good listener today!" I put Owen down, and went to find her.

It was very quiet in the house. I had to really look for her. And I found her standing by the fridge, really close to the fridge. Hugging the fridge, trying to hide by the fridge.

Then I see two pieces of the crayon in her left hand, and her right hand is in her mouth, with two more pieces of crayon. Red crayon mess. Why, why do toddlers eat strange things? I didn't know if I should give her a treat, because she did stay out of his room for several minutes, but it was because she was eating something inedible.

Last week we went to the park, and two days in a row she ate sand. I have read that the mouth is a way that they explore and learn, which is understandable. But why would you repeat it? Sand in your mouth has got to be disgusting!


Three days ago I was in the bathroom, and Owen started to cry. Then Emma began to comfort him. I marveled at how attentive she was being. I imagined me walking into the room and finding Emma trying her hardest to make it ok for him, and then I would swoop down and grab him and we all celebrate.

I think I still had an adoring smile on my face from this fairytale as I walked into the living room. There I find Owen on his stomach, yelling from anger as much as anything, with Emma sitting on him. She was perched on his bottom and patting his back.

Sigh.

She explained it well though. With a burst of excitement (and a smidgen of hesitation) she exclaimed, "I'm riding Owen!". She thought it was darn fun. Thus, the lesson of "You can't ride Owen" followed.

It's tough being two. It is a world of rules that you don't understand and logic you can't follow. Why is it ok to ride daddy and not Owen? What is ok to eat, and what isn't? And the list goes on...

I'm here, just busy

Trying to get two small children to do anything that resembles posing fora picture is a challenge, to say the least. On this particular day, the children were accidentally dressed in matching outfits. Now, what mother doesn't think that's cute? So of course I tried to get them to "be cute". No dice. Emma was too interested in her corn to sit still, and Owen wasn't particularly happy with the entire affair. But, life is real, so this is what it really looks like.

The winter was long this year, maybe it will be every year! We did thumb our noses at Mother Nature on occasion, and ventured out long enough to realize that it really was a bit cold to be outside.

The O-dawg loves his feet. He loves having them bare so he can examine them and taste them. I don't think that my body could ever do this. Well, maybe at one time, but it rebelled at least a good quarter of a century ago, and now I would be embarrassed to say how close (or far) I can come to my toes.

Come on, you don't stretch either.

Emma's gracious grandmother (I should say one of them) shared her keyboard with her for her birthday. We think that little Emma is musical, so Nana got a chance to share her love of music. It was a joy to watch, I took a ton of pictures. Emma graduated from banging on as many keys as possible to pressing them one or two or several at a time quickly. Of course, I think that music is in her blood, but of course I am biased. A few days ago she turned the keyboard on, began to play and sang "Jesus Loves Me".

You can call me anytime during the day Oprah, we would love to come on the show.


Cute post-bath baby.

black and white kick

I love Picasa.







My little guy is pretty serious, but he does smile and laugh too. His favorite person might be Emma. As a mom, I don't know how I like being the second fiddle! He is scooting around like crazy, and really knows how to move around. He squeals with delight and screams when he is mad. And mad he gets! He loves carrots, squash, and tolerates green beans. Peas are a different story. You would think that he ate dirt after each bite. I love peas, so I am not sure what the problem is. I think he is just like his dad, in many ways. (who also isn't crazy about peas) I am amazed at how much individuality there is even at this young age.
Emma has a stuffed butterfly that she plays with for long stretches each day. One favorite thing that she does is she drops the butterfly, picks it up, and says "Butterfly, did you fall down? It's ok butterfly". She loves to take care of it. She is a daddy's girl for sure. When he comes home she runs to meet him and loves to spend time with him. Emma loves toast and most foods, and likes raw carrots after she saw how much her brother likes them. She loves to be outside and loves going for walks. She is a joy and we are enjoying her very much.
I have 200 pictures on the camera to put on the computer. I have 180 to order. I am behind.
We are going to start packing soon. It feels daunting, but we are really excited to get to our new home. We are going to have to just do a few boxes a day for the next several weeks. I thought it was going to be really scary to have a house of our own, but so far it has been a relief. It will be nice to be accountable to ourselves and be able to make decisions and paint and update when we want to. It is also a great feeling to be paying towards something.
Ahh...I feel like a grown up.
Already??

The March Blizzard

Snow day

For all my Kansas friends. Look at what you are missing! I expect no more complaining of "bad weather". :)

a few more

The day Emma got her new "baby", named "corn". She has had a few replacements since this initial meeting (as "corn" tends to get eaten), and has loved them all equally.

If only we could paste this kid on a box. Wouldn't you buy this kitchen?

She is a very happy little girl.

And I am a happy mama. This is my "major award". I registered on an on-line website, and lo and behold, I WON! Woo hoo! The next time I go to the beach to soak up the sun and peer at cameras over my sunglasses, I will definitely take this awesome beach towel with me.

My major award. Lots of cereal and a kicking towel.

Mmm...I love Special K. It is great. I start my day with Special K, and I feel great. And, studies have shown that women who eat two meals of Special K (and a healthy dinner) lose weight. ;)

just a couple...yeah i know, it's been a month.

Emma got a kitchen for her birthday from her adoring parents. She immediately made us oatmeal to show her gratitude.

Owen loves loves loves his johhny jump-up. This kid jumps for great stretches of time. He is very strong. Maybe they should market adult johnny jump-ups. Hmm...I see dollar signs.

Those big eyes saying, "thank you so much for this kitchen, i just love it. i will never want anything else, i promise. i am the happiest kid on the block now, instead of runner-up. thanks mom, thanks dad, you guys rock."

Or something like that.

Where's the Q?

Over the weekend, we made a family trip to the grocery store. It was successful. When we arrived home, I let Emma unload several sacks. She had a very good time taking cereal, pasta, and other products in sturdy packaging out of the sack and setting in on the floor.

After we finished putting everything away, I noticed that she was walking around 'shushing' something. Whatever it was, she was having a very good time mothering it. Of course, I carefully spied on her (as any good mother would do). She had taken the bag of popcorn out, and decided that it made a darn good baby. While we were sitting in the living room, she even took a doll out of her stroller to make room for the popcorn! She named it 'corn', and has been spotted mingling with it on multiple occasions since.

Little Owen slept like a baby last night. Of course, the moment I even think about him becoming a better sleeper he proves me wrong. Nevertheless, it was a much needed night of sleep for the entire family.

This evening I got the hiccups, and Owen thought it was hilarious. He laughed. It was such a fantastic moment. It seems like we have spent so much time comforting him and trying to help him feel better that we have missed out on him just being a baby. It was so much fun to lay with him and just giggle.

After he had gone to sleep, I spent some time with Emma. We laid on the couch and read books. She thought that trying to point to the pictures with her feet instead of her hands was hilarious. It was fun to be silly and try to make her stop. I don't do a very convincing mean mom sometimes. I was in the middle of a book, and she abruptly climbed on top of me. After she had plopped a foot on either side of me, she began to point to all the letters on my shirt and name them. I was very impressed (as any good mother would be). After she finished with my shirt, she began to sing the alphabet song. She got to "q", and said, "where's the q?". She then began to look around the room, as if it would be sitting in a chair or something. It is really fun to share these moments of childhood.

Did I mention that I have given up coffee? If you know me, you understand that this is indeed a great tragedy. Ok, I'm being melodramatic. What is a word for something that is almost a great tragedy, that's what this is. I know, I know, it's terrible. But we think that Owen is doing better because I have not had it. Although I had hoped it would not come to this, here we are. But, I think I'll stay off of it for awhile, and then sneak it in once in awhile and see how he does. (Isn't that what a good mother would do?)

crusty hair and the unmentionable mess

8:00 a.m.

"Hello Owen. Long time no see. You must be hungry. Of course. Let's go into my room and you can eat there, while I pretend that it isn't time to get up."

8:10

"Good morning Emma. What crazy hair you have this morning! Wait, that isn't mere bedhead. What, what is it? It's...it's kind of crusty. Why do you have crusty hair Emma?"

11:00 p.m. previous night
Emma wakes and coughs and coughs and coughs. I sigh, and force myself up (from the moment of almost going to sleep) and shuffle to the kitchen. Once there, I get a spoonful of honey and go to Emma. "Here Em, take this. Whoops, I think I am dripping. Good thing it wasn't much. Have a drink of water. Good night"

8:11 a.m.

Oh yes...that is why you have crusty hair. Nothing like a spontaneous bath.

8:15

Feed Emma, make coffee, brush teeth, change Owen.

8:30

Emma is done with breakfast. I wipe her hands, I get her down. I sit down to feed Owen, to make sure he really is full and can go longer than 23 minutes without thinking he is hungry.

"Oh, Owen. Your leg is kind of wet. That darn spit-up! Don't worry son, you won't spit up forever. Wait, wait, that isn't spit-up. Oh my. It isn't...it is". *sigh* Nothing like a spontaneous bath.

8:31

Triage. Crusty hair vs. the unmentionable mess. Obvious choice.

8:35

Strap birthday-suited son to changing table, prepare bath for him, pour coffee. Get son. Bathe son. Dry son. Dress son. Put son in rocker, in bathroom, with toys. Top off coffee. Smile. Get daughter.

"Emma's turn!"

Turn bathwater on. Take pj's off of Emma. Begin to take off diaper. Oh no, it isn't...it is. Change Emma in her room. Bathe daughter. Scrub daughter's hair. Dry daughter. Dress daughter. Finish coffee. Smile.

8:45

Gather up dirty laundry. Look down, realize that I am still in pj's. Rectify.

9:00 -10:30

Who knows

10:31

Put Owen down for nap. Hold breath.

10:33

Emma says "hungry". I think, sure, I could have breakfast.

10:35

We both eat cheerios.

11:00

I turn the t.v. on in time for the theme song to the big purple dinosaur. I make a little snuggle pile on the floor, and Emma and I curl up under a blanket. I get 10 minutes of eyelid rest time before she starts patting my face and leaning in to talk to me. I smile.

12:15

My husband pulls in the driveway. Emma runs to greet him with her arms open wide while gleefully exclaiming "Daddy's home, Daddy's home". He finds me in a chair, with Baby Owen in my arms. I can not muster enough of whatever it takes to properly greet him, orto properly inquire about his morning, or to give a proper explanation of why I am unable to musterit . He smiles knowingly. We both silentlyreflect on the previous night, for just a moment.

It was one more (feeble) attempt to coax a fussy baby to sleep. I had put him to bed at 6:30, and got up with him at 10, and a couple of times after. Each time, I was less understanding and more desperate for sleep. At the 3:30a.m. wake-up cry, I asked husband if he wanted to spend some quality time with son. He of course does, and rolls out of bed to conquer the land of screaming baby.

So we are both tired. We are both frustrated. We are both salivating at the thought of sleeping for longer than three or four hours at a time. I wonder how long this can go on before I really develop a mental disorder.

So my husband gives me a loving smile, and says, "long morning?".

I smile back. It was a long morning.

But I remember-

"the days are long, but the years are short"

and I get up to go make hot dogs.

a day in the life of the weins

this is owen's first go in the jump up. he really liked it. i remember the first time we put em in, she hated it. but he just hung out. emma thought it was really fun, she got down and played with him. now, i realize that this is the doorway of the pantry, but we don't have any trim in the other doorway. he loves looking at the dustpan, i promise.

emma loves to read, and her baby is learning to love it too. she is sharing one of her favorite books.

this baby was so tired. he just zonked out.

emma is gazing adoringly at her uncle abe. once again, we did not set this up in the slightest.

this is the house that we built for her, we have since added on. she really likes it. she was having a party on this occasion.


ane now, i am off to do an assortment of odd jobs. first of all, emma has put someone in time out in her room, so we need to go check up on her, and open the bedroom door. then i need to go convince owen that yes, this really is nap time. then i need to go put some laundry in the washer, and sweep the dirt off of the basement floor in preparation for some weekend guests.

and then the big purple dinosaur may make an appearance.