3.31.2009
Snow day
For all my Kansas friends. Look at what you are missing! I expect no more complaining of "bad weather". :)
3.26.2009
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. ;)
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.
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.
3.02.2009
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?)
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?)
2.17.2009
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.
"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.
2.12.2009
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.
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.
2.06.2009
some pictures
Owen's five month picture.
owen's four month picture
they grow so fast
this is on the way home from our anniversary weekend. it was basically a blizzard.
owen's four month picture
they grow so fast
this is on the way home from our anniversary weekend. it was basically a blizzard.
1.21.2009
today
My last few weeks -ok, maybe months- has been a journey of intense emotion. There are obviously many moments of great joy, and pride, and contentedness. These little peanuts create a place in the world for me, and it's a place that I dearly love.
However, there are also times when I am on the doorstep of having a complete breakdown. A few close members of my "holy crap, what am I going to do" club will attest that I have also knocked on the door a few times. Luckily, Complete Breakdown wasn't in at the time, so I got up, brushed myself off and went about my day.
Mostly, this comes from the little guy, he just doesn't sleep very well. A rational me would be, well, rational about the whole thing. But, the sleep-deprived, hungry for dairy, behind-on-life me tends to get really worked up about it. The nights are hard. But then the days that follow can be worse. I just don't have enough to give, enough energy, patience, or attention, and it shows. Emma whines, Owen cries, and I watch the clock.
I believe that it will get better. But, please ,tell me about a time in your life when someone said that to you, and it actually made you feel better right now. Not that it isn't nice to hear, a little perspective goes a long way. It's just hard to push aside all these thoughts and driving emotions. I feel really guilty on the days when I am not totally in love with this crying baby. He is my little guy, and I do love him. But there are days when I just have had it up to here. I feel like I am doing a job that is not up to par, I am not passing the test. Something is wrong, and I'm not fixing it. I feel sad that I don't have the energy to actively pursue relationships like I should, for me, but more so for Emma. She is getting to the age that she loves to socialize. I choose to stay home, therefor, it's part of my job to make sure she gets that. So yes, it will be easier someday, but today is hard.
Of course, God has blessed me with many wonderful people who provide me with a shoulder to complain on, a source of endless love, forgiveness, and patience, and even some comical relief.
Today, I reached out for some good advice and needed perspective, and got both. I was also tickled pink to hear my straight-laced, clean mouthed perspective giver read something to me that included a word that I thought I would die before I ever heard come out of her mouth.She read exactly what I needed to hear at the moment, and I was so thrilled that the naughty word was not turned into an abbreviation or a letter, it was the whole she-bang.
So, as I wind down at the end of a long day, I am once again reminded of all I have to be thankful for. A house that is warm, and heat that we can pay for. An incredible relationship with a man who is more patient that anyone should have to be. Beautiful children who make me smile, who forgive me when I'm not perfect mommy, and who are healthy and strong. And for these people who I can call in distress, who will cuss properly.
However, there are also times when I am on the doorstep of having a complete breakdown. A few close members of my "holy crap, what am I going to do" club will attest that I have also knocked on the door a few times. Luckily, Complete Breakdown wasn't in at the time, so I got up, brushed myself off and went about my day.
Mostly, this comes from the little guy, he just doesn't sleep very well. A rational me would be, well, rational about the whole thing. But, the sleep-deprived, hungry for dairy, behind-on-life me tends to get really worked up about it. The nights are hard. But then the days that follow can be worse. I just don't have enough to give, enough energy, patience, or attention, and it shows. Emma whines, Owen cries, and I watch the clock.
I believe that it will get better. But, please ,tell me about a time in your life when someone said that to you, and it actually made you feel better right now. Not that it isn't nice to hear, a little perspective goes a long way. It's just hard to push aside all these thoughts and driving emotions. I feel really guilty on the days when I am not totally in love with this crying baby. He is my little guy, and I do love him. But there are days when I just have had it up to here. I feel like I am doing a job that is not up to par, I am not passing the test. Something is wrong, and I'm not fixing it. I feel sad that I don't have the energy to actively pursue relationships like I should, for me, but more so for Emma. She is getting to the age that she loves to socialize. I choose to stay home, therefor, it's part of my job to make sure she gets that. So yes, it will be easier someday, but today is hard.
Of course, God has blessed me with many wonderful people who provide me with a shoulder to complain on, a source of endless love, forgiveness, and patience, and even some comical relief.
Today, I reached out for some good advice and needed perspective, and got both. I was also tickled pink to hear my straight-laced, clean mouthed perspective giver read something to me that included a word that I thought I would die before I ever heard come out of her mouth.She read exactly what I needed to hear at the moment, and I was so thrilled that the naughty word was not turned into an abbreviation or a letter, it was the whole she-bang.
So, as I wind down at the end of a long day, I am once again reminded of all I have to be thankful for. A house that is warm, and heat that we can pay for. An incredible relationship with a man who is more patient that anyone should have to be. Beautiful children who make me smile, who forgive me when I'm not perfect mommy, and who are healthy and strong. And for these people who I can call in distress, who will cuss properly.
1.13.2009
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